I keep wondering where my energy keeps going and I honestly think it's being absorbed by my constant need to snivel and bitch.

Everything I've got in these last few years has been one hundred percent me. All my own effort, no cheater drugs or prescriptions, no muscle enhancing or fat shredding pills. The only thing I've done is take a few hunger suppressants in the past. That's it.

My body has tried it's hardest to put me down. It kept me weak and under ninety pounds for most of my teenage life before doing a complete turn and adding over sixty pounds (Most of which stuck to my stomach and chest I might add), all the while keeping my arms and the rest of me thin and weak. I was a total wimp, fleshy and defenseless.

The fact I've elevated myself to where I am today is a complete and utter accomplishment, I'm unrecognizable from even three years ago. I've shredded most of my body fat and added so much definition and muscle tone to my chest and shoulders that I'm asked frequently what sports I play to stay in shape. I don't, I workout on my own time to keep myself looking the way I want to look.

Why do I even acknowledge criticism or even let myself think it? What I'm doing and and have done deserves recognition and I need to realize that, not allowing any form of negative energy to reach my impressionable brain. I need to praise myself more, I am proud of what I've done. And I do look damn good.

Who gives a fuck about how I look anyways asides me, I care the most.

So go on, give me what you've got. I'm not afraid.

My frustration continues.

I went to the gym again but I didn't feel it. I felt tired almost immediately, I had to really push myself for ten minutes on the exercise bike. Ten lousy minutes! I'm hardly demanding on myself and yet I keep coming up short, the small goals I set becoming distant and seeming farther then ever. I'm eating right, I'm making the effort to get up and out there, I'm doing the work and it's only getting more aggravating. I remember when I started this was easier! I remember cardio being less of a challenge then it is now, I keep gaining weight. The weight sets even felt bad, I wasn't able to stay for a full hour I got so sore and tired almost instantly.

Is this another mindgame? Am I doing this to myself?

I've stepped up my flirting nature, almost to the point of aggressive. I flirt with anyone and everyone now, the girl behind the counter, the girl across the street, the young women stuck in the training class behind me. I'm totally flying with the motto "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," and so far I haven't gained much. I still have a terrible approach and am afraid of intelligent conversation, I'm drawing blanks and can see myself feeding the conversation with small talk. It's like I'm really just waiting for someone to take a serious interest in my body all the time now, I'm putting all my hope on it. But with my confidence being on such a teeter-totter at all times I wonder what will happen if someone does bite.

At times I walk through every door with a half smirk and such a confident strut I actually stop at windows to get a look; at others I slouch and make myself invisible beneath my sunglasses. Sometimes I can strike up a decent conversation with anyone; at others I'm so timid and scared of rejection I actually squirm in discomfort until I can leave. I feel like an idiot almost all the time though, no matter the situation. I've definitely lost my former charm and wit.

I wonder if all the fucking jocks and muscle-bound idiots around are as lonely as I am and just capable of hiding it or just so occupied with their looks they don't need anyone.

I went out again, stayed true and didn't drink, but as soon as I got there people seemed disappointed I wasn't. Everyone kept asking if I was having fun, why I wasn't, etc. Have I already got a reputation? And why do people expect it, am I more fun drunk? I mean yeah, I'm rambunctious and rowdy as all hell when I'm drunk, but I don't need it to have fun or anything. I feel like I'm becoming more of this persona I've sought after and less of an individual, just something else that fits. Just another dude at the party, having a good time being totally trashed upside down in a golf cart.

I want a real relationship again, but with all of this focus on self image and just going out and doing whatever the fuck I want I feel I'm really taking away chances of anyone ever actually getting the opportunity to get to know any bit of me. Like what I really think, feel, believe. I still have strong morals and a code of conduct in the way I act, but it's invisible when I drink. I'm there for the entertainment of everyone else, showing off and acting every bit and part of the fool or animal.

When I did go to the gym, I felt a release I hadn't felt in a long time. I came out with my feathers up, chest out. The swagger was definitely back in force, but it's only taken a day or so to fade. I'm going again tomorrow, I think I'm addicted to going to the gym? The rush, the swell of pride and adrenaline, the surge of power. Even the aches and soreness that comes along with have become like second nature to me, I feel like I'm really doing something even though it's so trivial. I feel big and empowered.

I need to shove alot more cardio down, I'm still sighing too much at the mirror and looking for the flattering angles. The gym eliminates that though, I feel good no matter what I do, which is just more fuel for the fire.

I'm really beginning to accept the nature of human beings and myself alot more, allowing myself to admit to straight out and basic emotions. People try and deviate from it all the time, but we're still fucking animals that just consider ourselves above the rest of the planet and its residents. I feel better just saying them outright, taking into serious thought about all the barbaric tattoos I come up with, the living plans and styles. I feel better then all the idiots that try and deny it; coming up with fashion sense, lingo, styles and trends, fake culture, high society. I take what I want when I need it. I wear what I want because I think it looks good, makes me look and feel the way I want to project. And I'm proud of it.

I want a defining moment.

Fuck, just juice me.

A lull again, the downwards part of the wave we ride.

I've had a severe lack of energy these last few weeks, preventing me from doing much asides get wasted and work a few hours a day so I can tick off the day as a win. I haven't been going to the gym nearly enough and I can already feel the addictive impulse shredding my muscles. I feel fat, obese, whale-ish. It's so fucking stupid, I hate having to "write out" my feelings on it to make me feel just a little better.

As I said earlier I've noticed a slide in progress; a noticeable dip in my bodies progression to what I want, so because of it I don't have any positives to focus on, so I continue to ride myself on all the negatives. I'm really not 'fat', maybe at worst a little flabby around the stomach but it's all I can see. It's like it obscures the rest of my body.

I've kept at partying, lack of interest in sexual conquests has slowed things down a little and I think I'll lay off the bottle until Cinco De Mayo at least. I'm spending way too much on booze when I'm unemployed anyways.

I really want to be in shape for summer. It's a realistic goal I set for myself last summer that I convinced myself I had achieved, but this time I really want to just fucking nail it. I think I may have to get my thyroid checked again, it's already basically failed once so maybe I should look into it. No matter how well I sleep (Which is never THAT great,) or how well I eat I still feel like I just dragged my ass out of bed six hours too early.

I wonder if people that get liposuction brag about it.

Fuck you stomach.

It's all I see! I'm at this frustrating as fuck point where it's all I see; my muscle growth, as it should by nature, has slown down and isn't as noticable as I'd like. So instead of just sitting around a mirror for awhile, I can't! Because all I see is Love handles, bulging stomach, rolls of fat...

I'm one hundred and eighty four pounds. I really need to get a fucking life.

I'm not actually as fat as I sound, I'm actually in pretty good shape and all it's just it's all people mention. I don't care what they say or if they told me to go find the tallest bridge over the brightest pit of sulphuric acid and become the prettiest Dodo Bird since extinction, but what I do care about is the repitition. When it's all you hear and nothing else, nothing ever positive, just you need to lose some weight around your stomach....It's beyond irritating.

It's enough to make me think of all the alternatives again; supplements, weight loss pills, hunger suppresents. All that cheater, loser bullshit for people who actually need it. I don't!

The real fucking kick in the sack is that I watch what I eat, when I eat, how I eat, what I make, calorie count, make sure I follow the food pyramid, RRRRGGHHHH!

WHAT THE FUCK ELSE DO I HAVE TO DO?!

Oh yeah, get out and do more. Shit.

Fuckin'. Ergh. LOSE WEIGHT! READ THIS AND LOSE WEIGHT! I haaaateeee carrdiiiooo so much!

In other news...

I'm on like a five weekend killing spree of getting fucked out of my mind, which has been a total blast. I'm really getting into it now, I'm just embracing that part of me a little more and just letting go and fucking having fun.

I'm still looking for that fight. Got a few in the works, just need a few words to spark one. Also enjoying the primal lust and feelings this broods.

Haha, fun quote I thought up in the week.

"If women wanted a feminine guy, they'd date a butch lesbian. So man up!"

Fuckin' Booze.

I keep finding myself yearning to drink.

"Look, I'm somewhere fun. I should drink."
"This place is amazing, it's so much fun, but vodka would make it funner..."
"I'm bored, let's drink!"

My spontaneous nature doesn't help much at all, I like to just get out there and get wasted whenever the fuck I feel like it. Which still isn't very much, but the thought process still bothers me more than a little bit. What's giving me these impulses? I'm a happy drunk, I have a lot of fun always, but I've never had like a major or defining expierience drunk, so I'm a little confused. Why brain booze want?

I keep gaining fucking weight too, I can't keep off the ten pounds I lost. Fuck, look at me, bitching about ten pounds, but it's really starting to get to me. Why can't my damn Love handles just piss off and stay off? My pecks are assholes as well, some days looking fine as hell, others turning it around on me and sticking out like boobs. I can't make up my mind if I like them or not. The fact I keep getting jibes isn't helping, it's just making me more agressive again.

Ergh. Even now I'm thinking of finishing the two-six five feet to my right.

HULK SMASH!

Sunday night, another week gone.

The thoughts and urge to go to the clubs and bars is overwhelming, I can almost feel an itch to get out and just meet someone, anyone, who shows interest in me. Someone to buy me a drink, someone to feel me sensually, to eyeball me.

Someone even just to notice me! All human beings thrive on positive attention but this is ridiculous, I feel like some sort of whore. Except I'm not doing anything. Yet.

The mirror is my bitch now. I can't not look at myself whenever I stride by, and it's never a single shot or pose, it's always some absurd pose or angle I put myself in, just to see if anything new that looks good has developed. I am proud of my body though, I've worked damn hard to look like this, and I think I deserve a bit of recognition for it. That's the justification I give myself for wanting SO much attention as of late.

I'm much more agressive now then I've ever really been. I'm constantly bickering, picking odd fights, putting myself in a position to get in a fight. It's weird, I've always been like the most zen motherfucker out there, or at least trying to shy away from conflict, but as soon as you put on a bit of muscle you're out there being a dick. And I almost enjoy it?

Brain, come on man, what's the deal. Asides from being so bi-polar it's not even a fun game anymore, what are you doing up there?

This must just look like such a clusterfuck, some entries all down and sad, others pumping with adrenaline and such a cock-sure attitude I could punch myself and the next to a downer, woe is me bullshit.

I really need some more nightlife.

Armor?

I have to wonder if all this is something my brain is doing to me while it tries to work its own shit out.

I'm down again, that hopeless feeling of being alone. I really hate depression, and I hate every last thought and way I act when it hits. It's all so goddamn cliche, everything I do just seems like I'm following some god-awful script.

So maybe that's what all of this is, some sick form of protection. I'll admit, it makes me feel big; tough even sometimes. I know I'm not not though, so the in the back of my mind I can laugh at the farce I put on as I strut around, pushing my chest out and stomach in.

I hate that I have to write to work things out. I hate that I put myself out there for anyone to see, yet my natural ego demands I put it on the internet. I tried a home journal but all I see is jumbled handwriting that I can't seem (Or want?) to make coherant.

The weekends coming. Maybe I'll just get drunk again.