My own fight club

And now the other half of the blog I did on Fight Club. In many ways, the gym is my own fight club. I go in and completely wreck myself day in and day out in hopes that I will be able to find the answers I need in order to actually start moving forward with my life somewhere in the bottom of the barrel of my own self-loathing. I go in not very talkative and I leave pumped, hungry, tired, and feeling like I went a few rounds. Somewhere in the self-induced pain, the adrenaline high, bigger arms, chest, shoulders, legs, I will find a way to exorcise the demons I carry. The demons of regret, loneliness, indecision, and my own dark side. In the shirts that continue to grow smaller, I fill them with the built-up scar tissue that proves to me I can feel and be a normal human being. This is where I over-exert myself to point of seeing stars. This is my freedom. This is my church. This is my fleeting happiness.