You always used to complain about the smell of my cigarettes that clung to the seats of my car, so I quit smoking because I'd rather lose the things that make me calm than lose you.
You always complained about the smell of the liquor and beer on my breathe and the way it tasted in your mouth when we kissed, so I quit drinking even though it was the only way to feel normal. I'd rather lose my sanity than lose you're arms around my waist.
You wanted me to quit all the things you thought were killing me slowly, so maybe that's why you decided to leave, or at least that's what I keep telling myself. It's what I have to keep telling myself.
I've been drinking and smoking myself into ash since the week you stopped calling me and the nicotine and ***** may be helping, but you're certainly the one killing me.