The Wrestler
They say today is the most depressing day of the year. If it means a day without your smile, I can go with that. I hope you will be fine for the rest of the year. As for me, I keep smiling even if you are in a bad mood. I had spent so many days in agony that I simply cannot afford another one. Not this year, not even on the most depressing day of the year. And I’m working hard to keep it this way.
I have become very strict to myself lately. I have become my own warder and my room has transformed into a cell – but the most pleasant kind of. I have no illusions about freedom, I’m not making plans about great escapes. (On the contrary, I feel nervous and tensed when I have to leave this safe place.) I’m a voluntary inmate in my prison where self-discipline is the number one priority. I’m doing my work in absolute silence.
There are strict rules I must follow by any means. The strictest rules refer to my weaknesses. If I fail, punishment is meted out. I’m trying to avoid seductive situations. I know that if I stick to the rules, I will get the compensation before. What compensation do I get for all this? Well, one of the rules is not asking such questions.
You might think my life is boring and sad, because I live according to severe acts. You are so wrong, my friend. As time is passing by, (Time is precious. The more time I’m spending under these circumstances, the more valuable my work is becoming. There will be also less reasons to break any rules.) all I receive from this childish prison-game is the enermous power. I feel so strong that I could move mountains. I could fly. I could do anything. My pockets are full of treasure.
I have become very strict to myself lately. I have become my own warder and my room has transformed into a cell – but the most pleasant kind of. I have no illusions about freedom, I’m not making plans about great escapes. (On the contrary, I feel nervous and tensed when I have to leave this safe place.) I’m a voluntary inmate in my prison where self-discipline is the number one priority. I’m doing my work in absolute silence.
There are strict rules I must follow by any means. The strictest rules refer to my weaknesses. If I fail, punishment is meted out. I’m trying to avoid seductive situations. I know that if I stick to the rules, I will get the compensation before. What compensation do I get for all this? Well, one of the rules is not asking such questions.
You might think my life is boring and sad, because I live according to severe acts. You are so wrong, my friend. As time is passing by, (Time is precious. The more time I’m spending under these circumstances, the more valuable my work is becoming. There will be also less reasons to break any rules.) all I receive from this childish prison-game is the enermous power. I feel so strong that I could move mountains. I could fly. I could do anything. My pockets are full of treasure.
I don’t know the end. I might be not interested. What I want at the moment is to open another book and read the words someone was writing down among four walls, in absolute silence. And if I lose my interest in the book, I repeat the rule, which says: I’m doing this for my own good. If I stick to the rules, I will get the compensation before.
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