What comfort really costs

You're allowed to need comfort today. A lot of it. The kind where you want something to close over your head for an hour. But every door you'd usually open has a price on it. Takeout's out. The little splurge is out. So your mind scans for the cheapest fast relief it knows, and you know where it lands.

Look at that option with clear eyes. The cigarette never delivered comfort. It delivered the end of the discomfort it created. Same label, different product. A hot shower doesn't leave you needing another one. A cigarette does. That's the difference between comfort and a leash.

Now the list it won't show you. A shower hot enough to turn your shoulders pink. Sleep, taken early and on purpose. Ten minutes outside with your head up. One voice, called instead of texted. A prayer out loud with no polish on it. Every one of those is free, and none of them comes back asking for more.

Pick the one you can have soonest, and take it as the real thing, not a stand in. Comfort was never the thing with the price tag. Somebody just learned to sell a counterfeit of it. God gives the real ones away, and there's plenty. You're not going without today. You're being comforted the way you were built to be.