Here I am.

At home, I'm starting to feel obsolete.

I said goodbye to my buddies at boxing and shook hands with the Coach for the last time in awhile. As I walked out the door I felt my chains fall down and make a clatter on the cold ground, my optimism high. By the time I walked in my front door I had already crashed, my sights set on walking into the night and not coming out. The whole drive I screamed along to The Lawrence Arms, "Criminal," so I feel like my feelings may be justified.

My anger is a sign of disgust with myself, A stewing serenade I hear the sirens on their way. The chemicals inside of me just kept on swimming through my veins, Maybe I should make a move and try to leave this all behind. I listen to the absence of noise, Dead summer breeze, I’m inflated with suspicions. Seems I’ve identified again the criminal of my intent.

I don't know man, when the fuck did I really become such a fucking baby.

I've got harsher mood swings then a cow in heat in the middle of a desert in the summer with no water and a guy trying to suck its tits.

I've got to try and go and upgrade my fucking grades, I've got to make it to University. The plan is to upgrade whatever the hell I need and then go and major in History with minors in Slavic and Physical education. That's just what I spun off the top of my ass, I don't know if you can do that sort of thing, but it's what I want. But then again, when's the last time that fucking counted for two cocks.

I started writing this all pissed off but I've already turned it around to my sarcastic ego. Jesus.

When I get there, asides looking for some sort of job I can tolerate, the first thing I'm going to do is try and find another affordable boxing and squash club. I'm actually into that scene now, which is kind of cool. I never, ever pictured myself liking them and to go out and do it is kind of a thrill in a dull sort of way. Good boxers don't make good writers, so let's hope I don't get too deep. I already feel stupider.

The other possibilities are Ju-jitsu, wrestling, (Maybe. I'm not that gay.) Muay Thai, or kick-boxing. Who knows? Between squash and boxing I've managed to carve a decent body out of my jello mold, so if I really go nuts deep who knows how fine I could end up.

It's up to me in the end, which is the scariest part. I want to go back to being able to trust myself.

AND! I have a follower. Holy fucking shit. The pressure to pump this crap out is intense. So this post is for you, chicky.