No, you’re not sicko mode
This story begins in my dorm room, with the taste of freedom on my tongue, energy full of rebirth and possibility, and my high school friend sitting on her bed opposite mine. The exact moment I first tried it is blurry, but I remember buying it. With Mo Bamba bumping through the speakers, Rachel and I drove 5 minutes away from campus to a smoke shop. We went with a darling tear-drop shape and bought multiple sticky and fragrant juices of different flavors.
We brought our device back to the dorms like we were smuggling weed across state lines. We sat on our hand-me-down rug, passing the teardrop back and forth. Tiny vapor clouds swirled and danced around the concrete room as we giggled. We laughed at the fun feeling in our brains, the nicotine taking up space over oxygen. How cute and funny, huh?
We promised only to keep it on hand when we were together, getting drunk at frat parties, and not to let it get out of hand. It’s no shock to anyone that this goal lasted only two weeks. News flash, nicotine is an addictive chemical. Did y’all know that? Soon enough, we got our own, bringing it to classes, hitting it in bathroom stalls, and cultivating a full-blown addiction.
A silly and fun moment when I was 18 has caused irreversible damage, thank you, Maddy. I’ve quit and failed multiple times since then. I’ve gone a year without it, then got laid off, and the first stop I made was a vape shop. It’s like this stupid crutch that loves to make you think it’ll make everything okay. I promise, it makes almost nothing better.
Vaping when under stress, dealing with anxiety, or when crying is the quickest way to avoid emotional regulation. Instead of finding what helps you heal and learn, you take a puff of Watermelon Ice and numb it.
I started vaping again almost a year ago, when I was laid off. Now it’s been a new vape every 3 weeks, taking $28.99 out of the checking account. It’s been camping, ensuring the vape is charging in the car on the way to the site to ensure it doesn’t die over the weekend. It’s been hitting the vape after hiking a rocky mountain trail, making me light-headed due to elevation. It’s running off to the bathroom at family functions or dinners with friends.
During my running journey, I didn’t even stop until yesterday morning. I went on a 1.5-mile run in the rain, feeling good about myself. I got home and fixed a Liquid IV on the balcony while it was raining. Of course, not forgetting to bring my Banana Ice vape out with me, like a stalker. Vapes follow you everywhere, btw. To give myself some credit, I would monitor my beats per minute until I reached under 100 BPM before hitting the vape. I’m not psychotic, ok? Yeah obviously I’m kidding, it’s insane to monitor your heart rate to suck on some chemically flavored air. I came inside, cold from my wet clothes, and it just hit me. It’s time to quit AGAIN. And I say again because nicotine is that bitch that always finds its way back to you. It’s like this hex on your life, always making your way back to each other. Like Peeta and Katniss in Mockingjay, I always make it through the hard times to find my star-crossed lover again, a GeekBar.
I threw the yellow plastic cube into the trash can and took a steaming shower, feeling my best in a while. I was on a high after practicing physical self-control and positive free will. The first day went great, even though I had a shift at the coffee shop. Meg at the front desk likes to have a bowl of Lifesaver mints out, but the last time I had checked, she had the blue kind out. You’re pretty insane if you don’t prefer the green spearmint kind. Anyway, I ask Meg to take some mints and she informs me, SHE GOT SPEARMINT!! Thank you, Meg! I sucked on those shits the rest of the workday until my tongue was raw.
Today has been agonizing, to say the least. Thankfully at work, my coworker Zoe brough me mints to suck on. Everybody say, thank you, Zoe! But seriously, everything has been making me feel so angry, it’s as though my veins are filling with red-hot lava. I almost jumped off the balcony when one of Chili’s hairs got into my eyes. When Grace asks me where something is, I get homicidal. When autocorrect tries to anticipate what I’m saying in a text, I want to throw my phone at a wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces. However, my mom said that when my phone breaks, I have to start my own phone plan, so I would never do that. And hey Grammarly, no, I don’t want your suggestions. You may think you’re helpful, but each time I write a killer joke and you try to change the format of the sentence... I think about writing a death threat to your CEO. Does your CEO even know I just quit vaping yesterday?
I don’t know how successful this endeavor will be, but like all great philosophers say, it gets harder before it gets easy. This philosopher is notably known as Grace Sather. Also, while we’re at it, Grace, you have this and this to clean, stop touching me, and stay out of my way. I know you’re reading this because I make you read all my writing. I don’t hate you, I just miss my flavored air.
If I fail, I can say good riddance to healthy lungs. If I am successful, coolio! If you’re thinking of quitting, do it! Be as miserable and evil as I have been today, it’s so fun. And if you’ve never vaped, don’t fucking do it. Save yourself while you can. Don’t be like 18-year-old Maddy and try it for fun while listening to SICKO MODE. You’re not sicko mode, you’re not cool, and you’re setting yourself up for 6 years of addiction.
