“I never changed my heart ever once. If you’re born with something, you’re born with it.”
I think Little Edie and I are quite the same person. In many, many ways. I am, of course, more aware of my own delusions. I too might have been something, someone else, had I not bent to the wills of so many others, trying to make them happy, spending so many winters in summer towns; but that was my doing. There is no Mother-dearest to blame.
I take the blame. I think, now, that this current distressing dip into despair is a chemical imbalance caused by my cessation of smoking. Without nicotine, my system has gone into some crazy (well, careful with that word) downward spiral. I am un-moored. It’s been a month now. Without a cigarette. I wonder though, maybe I ought to just smoke again. I mean, it is lovely, certainly, to not waken choking. The cough is gone. The hack. But, honestly, I haven’t that long left, so what is the point of doing all this dieting and gymming and not-smoking?
I mean, would Little Edie quit, now?