Life.

I quit smoking yesterday.
And my boyfriend decided, out of the goodness of his heart, or maybe just because I don't allow him to smoke indoors anymore, to join my detoxification.

But not yesterday. That was 'too soon' and he wasn't 'ready.'
But today he would, and we threw away all tabacco products and started a fresh and nicotineless life.

But then, he already managed to buckle, to beg one of his co-workers for a sigaret, whom he, very convieniently, had not told about his attempt at beating this addiction.

'Just this one'.
'The last one'
'Never again'

It all sounds so familiar.
And I feel down.
It just doens't seem fair.
That he would be 'allowed' to smoke after such short a time.
That he buckles, gives in, just like that, and gets his shot and just goes on with his life.

As where I work my ass off all day, resist the most terrible stress and overwhelming desire to eat and eat and eat and even manage to stay clean trough a night's work behind the bar at our local youth club

It's so unfair....

I want to smoke too...

Weirdness.

Strange, really, when I come to think of it.
Most of my nights are filles with English dreams.
At least two days a week I spend entire hours in English conversation with myself, the dog, tv, or one of my friends.
More than half the times when I write in my diary the lines are English only.
I watch series off of my computer, cos it's easier and I have them all in sequence, and they never have subtitles. When I watch something that does have subs, I set them to English, cos I don't like the Dutch.
My boyfriend and I are considering to give our children a bilingual upbringing.

So why, why is it that this blog is so much emptier than my Dutch one?
What is it about my life that I seem to value Dutch over English when I write?
Because, if I ever had to choose one of the two, I would definitely don't choose Dutch...