the first rule of fight club is you don’t talk about fight club

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Sometimes your feelings overwhelm you. Joy or agony, you might not be able to tell for sure. All yo know is you are in the grip of something against which you’ve got no defenses. Sometimes the best way to fight them is to surrender.

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But sometimes when you surrender you get your ass handed to you.

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Maybe it’s better to go down swinging.

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I go round after round with my own stubbornness, my laziness, my pointless anxieties, my half-finished plans. I fight till I’m bloody and other times I won’t step in the ring. You might have to come to the locker room and drag me out, or maybe I high-tailed it out to the nearest saloon.

I ain’t all I expect of myself.  I know it.

I fall short.

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My guess is that everyone feels the same at times, and that includes the people I think are all squared away, kicking life in the teeth and sipping champagne.

But I harbor my own doubts about this conjecture.

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What I know is that even a busted human usually feels better just by going outside for a while.

It works for me.

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The world is a flat-out wonder.

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Namaste.

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