/lit/ - Literature

I need to quit smoking.
My chest hurts on occasion, and that worrisome.
I'm not old enough to have developed something like cancer, but then who knows?
Part of me is alright with the thought, but then I think about the people who care about me. Then I wonder why they bother, when I obviously care so little about myself.
I think sometimes that it's just some obligation they feel. With family it might be true, but the few people I call my friends. They seem to genuinely care about me, in a way that I don't bring myself to feel.
Like I am somehow important, and that I matter, when I know I don't, when in truth they probably don't matter at all.
They matter to me, and I worry about them, am happy for them, and care for them when I can help. I just do not see myself in the same light that they seem to see me.
Maybe I'm right, and can only bring misery and chaos into the lives of those I care about, but maybe they simply see something in me that I am incapable of seeing.
I would like that to be true.