“Real Life” happens, and when it does, all of the clichés and tenets by which you have lived or which you have chanted or quoted at others become just so many infuriating and meaningless, empty syllables.
Nothing applies. Nothing explains.
I couldn’t go to the gym from last Sunday to this Friday, when I went and spent three hours on the cardio circuit. Yesterday, another three. I am going today, any minute, although each day I have to sort of force myself into clothes in which I am fit to be seen in public, get in my car, I get there and I sit in the parking lot, ten minutes, fifteen, talking myself out of it and into it. I walk in and I don’t look up because two people already asked me where I’d been.
I can’t begin to tell you where I’ve been. I keep my head down. I start on the cardio machines. I stay there. I stay there. I stay there. I run. I glide. I pull. I pedal. I rock. I push. I pull. Uphill. Higher resistance. No resistance, all speed. I go. I go. I go. I go.
And I cannot get away from this shit.
Fuck this shit.