It had been a difficult ascent. With every lunge, my arms shuddered and my shoulders ached. After what had felt like an eternity, I made that fateful, final reach for the top. Every last ounce of strength was used to pull my exhausted body out of what had seemed a bottomless ravine. Having reached the top, I collapsedÂ….

And I stopped. Listening to this song I realized that maybe I should cut the crap, as I’m sure you don’t want to wade through some elegant passage searching for the true meaning. “Mr. Writer, why don’t you tell me like it really is.” So hear it is in plain, easy to understand English.

First of all, congratulations or good for you Mike on your luck. All the best. And now, if your mood is good, please discontinue reading. If you couldnÂ’t care lessÂ…here we goÂ…

TIRED

I'm tired. Tired of what? Tired of just about everything. Having fall into my own personal hell only 2 years ago and clawed my way back to sanity with sheer willpower and the help of some friends, it was good knowing that for the most part, I could enter a year with new found inner strength. And stronger I felt. Not only was my personal fitness souring to knew heights, but my motivation was at an all time high. Things were good. I was feeling confident. It had not been something that I had had my whole life. No, a relatively recent acquirement that had proven itself to be a welcome addition to my life. Everything pointed towards experiencing one of the better years of my life. Moreover, for better or for worse, I had this new bitterness, a shorter temper, and a willingness to pounce on anyone who dared to test my character. This darker outlook was a result of what I had been through and was created to save me from further harm. Perhaps in time I would be able to break down this newly constructed wall and continue as before. Certainly, all the signs pointed towards this possibility. And so, the school year began with new optimism and the promise of good things to come.

With the year now drawing to a close, the optimism has been destroyed, or at the very least buried under burgeoning pessimism. A knee problem that has left me a prisoner in this decaying house has only worsened the pain. Over seven years ago the pounds were piling and the confidence was still conspicuously absent. I vividly remember two defining moments that drove me to transform my body from flabby jello under a veil of loose clothes, into the blood pumping semi-sculpted force that I was, only months ago. For seven years and thousands of hours of hard work, I built my confidence out of virtually nothing into what I had become, or was becoming. Besides the health and confidence, I had this wonderful new outlet for the constant bombardment from the world around me. Seven years of going no more than two weeks without some form of rigorous activity. I kept it up through both good and bad. The ultimate escape and permanent reserve of confidence and strength, always available whenever I so desired.

How have I been rewarded for this? I havenÂ’t run in over two and a half months. I walk on crutches for 10-15mins and IÂ’m sweating and out of breath. My perfect leg/s are shrinking under the lack of use. The one part of my body that I have been happy with. Everything that gave me so much optimism only months ago has been taken away. Maybe this is more of an argument against the existence of a benevolent god. Certainly if I had doubts before, there sure as hell arenÂ’t very many now.

So where does this leave me now? In the dying moments of my life here in Kingston when I should be out with my friends at the formal, IÂ’m sitting here typing this useless drivel. Instead of spending some quality time with my and fatherless friend Andrew, I am here. Instead of running away the stress of no home in 24 days and no where to go in September, I am here. I have become Cinderalla, unable to attend the ball because the knee wonÂ’t work. Or maybe more like the forever in debt salesman of the Simpsons who despite his hard work continuously finds himself shit out of luck. My marks are not representative of the work that I have done. I donÂ’t have someone to comfort me in this hour of need or maybe no one that I can really trust is around to help me.

And so what do I have to look forward to? Well, I am still alive. But right now, it feels like that is about it. Now, I donÂ’t see myself falling back to where I was two years ago, but it is difficult to maintain some sanity when IÂ’m been bombarded from all directions. Somehow I held together and made it through the worst period of my life only to be rewarded with this? I know IÂ’m not a horrible person and so I donÂ’t think that IÂ’m really deserving of this.

I’m bitter, angry, frustrated, tired. However, now that some time has passed since I began typing and since I have been listening to “Make it Right” for about 10 minutes, the fire burns. I’m still tired but ready to lift a giant middle finger to the world. Fuck you. Fuck everyone. Fuck it all. When I’m healthy I’m gonna kick this world’s ass. So, I will roll on with my head held high and my conscience in the gutter and my dreams up in the sky. Goddamn it, I will make it right. Till then, fuck this life.