Jennifer Hartsock, Contributing Writer
I’ve never been very prompt about quitting something that’s bad for me when I love it so much. I’m very patient, persistent, and forgiving in regard to unbeneficial friends, hobbies, or people I have feelings for. Nonetheless, when enough reasoning and examples become a pile too large to swat away, that is when I’m able to finally let go.
Cigarettes included.
by meddygarnet via flickr/ click to view source
I’ve had a lot of grief giving up smoking, and it’s because I love smoking. Just like anything else, I had to wait for the one final reason before I could stop altogether – with no more cheating, and no more “special occasion” smoking.
What finally did it was the fact that a two-year-old Indonesian boy was reportedly smoking two packs a day without knowing the consequences.
It is unjust to take away someone’s right to choose. I can never smoke again, or see other’s smoking, without this notion: a child was killing himself without the slightest concept of it happening.
How dare I, or you, choose to kill myself or yourself when this child can’t choose to live.
My choice to smoke or not to smoke means more than a personal choice affecting my own health. Now that I’m aware of a two-year-old boy who can’t understand that smoking will kill him, due to his age and quantity of cigarettes per day, my choice to smoke means that I acknowledge this ill-treatment, and choose to selfishly ignore it. It is, without a doubt, a choice of undervaluing my freedom, as well as being unresponsive to his abuse. My choice not to smoke means that this boy’s situation is wrong, and that I won’t overlook it, or take for granted my ability to say “I want to live,” when he can’t.
If you choose to smoke or talk about smoking in my presence, don’t be surprised when I become angry with you.
