No one cares if you’re sad when you’re a 25 year old dude. And that’s exactly the way it should be. Because that’s the rite of passage for any adult, man or woman. You handle you own shit. Suffer and you get stronger. As I laid on the boxing floor, the coach screams, “You’re here to suffer!” Oh I was terrible, but I didn’t mind. Step and jab. Twist at the hips. Keep your knees bent and keep your hands up. Don’t knock yourself out. How to properly wrap your hands. I like being a beginner because you learn so much. I could tell my coach doubted whether I could ever be a boxer. I was already labeled a person boxing for cardio, a boy with money but no athletic abilities (I don’t even have any fucking money). To be fair, I doubt whether I’m a fighter. But whether that’s due to fear or my insecurity, well those are two different things. Either way, I have to learn to be a fighter. Because I’ve been getting my ass handed to me for the last 25 years. I quit too early. I run away. I get angry when I should smile at obstacles. I’m lazy and to put it simply, I’m not a man. I know the entirety of my posts have been obsessively about you, but it’s the only frame of reference for who I was and who I am now and who I can become. Fuck the old Alan. He sucks. I wouldn’t want to be with him either.
My boss called me in complementing me but really criticizing me. What he was really saying was my post lacked personality. But I went back to the lab and wrote something I’m proud of. “This is really great. It’s very charming, Alan. Great work. You have to remember I hired you out of hundreds of applicants because of your writing. Let your personality come through.”
Honestly I’m afraid to let my personality come through, but that moment made me happy… I should do things with pride, with the mindset of kicking ass and making things better. I’m so full of doubt, and it’s easy to let that impede potential. It’s like I’m not even aware I’m shooting myself in the foot sometimes, you know? I am an ordinary person trying to be extraordinary.