I did it again.
Another beer and a cone of fries… terrible ones. The kind where you take a bite and immediately think, “why am I like this?”
And let’s not forget: I shouldn’t even be smoking.
And yet…
While I’m drinking, this familiar smell of a freshly lit cigarette hits me from the seat behind. You know that smell you haven’t inhaled in months, but when it arrives, it punches you straight in the nostalgia?
So I turn around, look at the guy behind me, and ask him for a cigarette.
And what does he do? He gives me three.
Three.
I mean… how do you politely refuse three cigarettes offered with kindness?
It’d be rude. I’m European. We have manners.
(And addictions. Apparently.)
Lately I’ve been vaping to survive the nicotine cravings.
Not the most elegant habit in the world, but you work with what you’ve got.
Except today, obviously, my vape decided to die.
And of course, here in Vietnam, vapes are illegal.
“Be strong,” I tell myself.
Now picture me wandering around Hanoi like a lost NPC, desperately trying to find a vape shop… only to realize an hour later they’ve been banned since 2025.
So basically I walked in circles for sport. Four hours later, irritated with myself and also slightly hungry, one single whiff of cigarette smoke was enough to make me crumble.
So there I am: one cigarette in hand, one beer in the other, dignity nowhere to be found…and the big question hits:
Where the hell do addictions even come from?
Why does my brain betray me so efficiently?
And why do I keep doing things I know are bad for me?
A discomfort I still can’t name
When you travel alone, reflection becomes your clingy travel buddy.
It follows you everywhere: at breakfast, on the street, in the shower, at 3 AM when you’re trying to sleep. Perfect. So here I am, trying to understand why I have this nicotine attachment I can’t shake off.
Last week I even saw a psychologist. She told me that when kids grow up too fast, they often develop addictions later on as a way to numb the pain.
And that got me thinking:
what exactly is my pain?
Is it loneliness?
Is it not having someone next to me?
Is it the constant physical and emotional movement, always going somewhere but never really landing?
Maybe my pain doesn’t have a name.
Maybe it’s a collection of tiny cracks, almost invisible, that make noise only when they line up just right. And in those moments, a cigarette becomes the quickest way to mute myself.
The gesture or the substance?
So lately I’ve been reading studies about this whole “bringing something to your mouth not because you’re hungry but because you’re seeking comfort” thing.
And one thing struck me:
Most of the time, it’s not the nicotine. It’s the gesture.
The movement. The ritual.
The tiny micro-self-hug you give yourself when you don’t know how else to soothe your emotions.
So I ask myself:
am I craving the cigarette…
or am I craving me?
Maybe the cigarette is just my emotional remote control.
A little “mute”, a little “pause”, a little “let’s stop thinking about childhood trauma for five minutes”. So now another question becomes:
am I smoking because I’m addicted… or because I’m missing something?
How to break a cycle (without motivational bullshit)
Let’s be real: there’s no magical day where you say “I quit” and never look back.
Addictions don’t break. They… negotiate.
For me, breaking the cycle doesn’t mean “stop smoking”.
It means: understand what comes before the cigarette.
So far, this is what I know about the process:
Notice the craving before it becomes a meltdown.
That tiny, tiny second where you think:
“Oh, we’re doing this… why?”
Replace the gesture, not the substance.
If the comfort is in the movement, then change the movement.
Hold something. Touch your chest. Do a deep breath that looks like yoga even though you haven’t done yoga since 2019.
Accept that emptiness isn’t filled with willpower.
It’s filled with actual presence.
Mine.
Not someone else’s.
Not the cigarette’s.
Remember that instant relief is a very charming liar.
It works for five minutes.
Then the invoice arrives.
And while I’m reflecting on all these deep psychological theories…
Let’s be honest:
right now I would absolutely love a cigarette.
What a pain in the ass….
———————————————————————-
Veronica,
Currently in Hanoi (Vietnam)
“Where crossing the street feels like negotiating with destiny.“
Work Unplugged 
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