What the fuck happened?

I didn't even see the right hand that sent me to the canvas.

I think my nose is broken, the inside twice as swollen and bloody then the first time I got beat up.

I didn't cry from the pain, or the shock, or just losing another sparring session. I came close to tears thinking about it.

After it's done, that glove that breaks and destroys the cartilage inside your nose isn't that. It's every failed relationship, every lousy grade you know you could have done better in, every setback, every lost dollar on shit you don't need. I became so emotional from it and I don't know why. I was a basket case, looking around the gym for anyone to stare at me so I could go over and lose it on them.

Scream. Rage. Take out all my insecurities with a verbal lashing followed by a stiff right hand to the jaw, beg them to hit me even though I knew I couldn't handle it.

Less then a dozen guys actually spar in a gym with over thirty regular attendees. Of that, at least half have been doing martial arts or boxing for more than a year. Two are actually the BC champions, but I didn't spar them. I fought someone younger, in better shape, and quicker. It is nothing to be ashamed of, I realize it myself, but it doesn't make me any less bitter.

It seems no matter what I do I'm never good enough. In writing I was always shouted down or second best. In sports I never had enough competitive spirit to push me to the very top. At work I've never had the desire to be the best I could be.

Now that I'm going back to school, what happens? Will I make it? Will I finally be able to sit down and study after more than six years without doing nearly a shred of homework? I can't defend myself, I can't literally fight.

Two phrases stand out to me now and I'm scorning them and myself.

"A fighter is only as good as his last fight."
"A Lover, not a fighter."

With my nose it'll be awhile, potentially until mid December, before I fight again. I have to live and train with the mentality that I've yet to damage anyone and have only been hurt over and over. I'll be stuck doing heavy and speed bag drills in which I'm unable to improve my technique or learn more about the art of fighting. I won't know what works and what doesn't. I won't realize how dangerous it is when I accidentally drop my right hand after a punch until I get drilled in the ring doing it. All the while my competitors will be getting better, faster, stronger and learning all the time.

I have nobody to Love. What does this make me?

My insecurities are eating me alive again. What women wants that?

As much as I like to believe in Darwinism, I'm not even on the ladder.

I've lost fifteen pounds boxing, so there is one bright side to it all.

School can't come soon enough.