Last weekend I was left alone at home and finally relapsed. But I didn't enjoyed PMOing at all. I felt my behavoir as something mechanical, an appetite I could have avoided if I had become more aware of it. I think my inner mind is starting to assimilate the hurt this addiction is doing to my existence and it's growing tired of it.
This is the path I have to establish in my head: PMOing is not amusing for me anymore. It's not funny, nor stimulant. Just some bad habit I'm used to, a pain in the ass. And memories about PMOing are becoming less and less exciting day by day.
So, no more remorse for failing. The only way to succeed is trying again and again!