DOWN BUT NOT OUT by Got Boulders

SCHMOE

Because Figure comes First

Boulders gets emotional here, but I must stress that just because a post is in the 1st person narrative, it does not mean that the content is autobiographical. Each individual post assumes a theme and a character from the contributor. They are getting their point across effectively without going into the traditional ‘once-upon-a-time-he-said-and-she-said’ story mode. I would never describe what we have here as short stories; I prefer scenes and sketches, or perhaps maybe the odd ‘short-short’ story.

Part 1 of 3

I was thin and I was wasting away. I didn’t want to eat; I didn’t want to live. I’d fell into a hole and reality was swallowing me whole. Somehow, someway, I’d become distant from the world of metal. I’d lost other things over time, like relationships with family members and God. I’d ruined business deals and spoiled career prospects and opportunities every which way but loose. My twenties were barely through and I was already a finished article, an end result, not a blossoming work in progress like so many others around me.

I envied my prospering friends. They had long since given up on me and I didn’t blame them one iota. The only people who recognise me anymore have just one thing to say....Christ, you’ve lost some weight, what happened? Like broken records they are. About as sensitive as a gynaecologist in a gas mask.

Have you no family and friends? They add. Are you not mobile? No doe? You look like a waste man these days, rude boy.

Nothing hurts like the spoken truth from someone who doesn’t give a shit. They don’t realise that once you lose the muscle, you lose the will to live. That means you start to die, from the inside out, like a rotting core.

When my bitch took my kids away, denying me any chance of access, I lost all the motivation and preparation needed for my contests. No more ready-cooked Tupperware meals neatly-packaged days ahead. No more hugs from my little ones in the morning to set me up for the day. It became a struggle to force down a tin of tuna. One thing led to another and soon I could hardly afford to pay my rent, never mind protein shakes or gym membership. Press-ups and sit-ups at home just aren’t the same. You miss the smell and the sounds of the iron pit. You miss it almost as much as all the other things you have lost.

And sometimes, perversely, more.

© Got Boulders MMX
Ya what, ha? Production
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