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📓 Later that night — 11:49 p.m.
Dude, I’m t-i-r-e-d.
Worked out twice today — first time I’ve ever done two-a-days.
My day started at 5:45 a.m.
Yup, I beat my alarm. It usually goes off at six, but I was already up.
Why? Because I felt good. Pumped.
The night before’s boxing workout hit different — made me feel good physically.
I just wanted to keep feeling that way.
So, this morning I did a 30-minute session of back, shoulders, and a bit of that bicep action.
Felt great. In the morning.
Then I got home — and boom — drive gone. Just gone.
Construction. They’d told us, “Don’t worry, we’ll do your driveway Friday.”
Nah. They did that shit today. Promptly. 8 a.m. sharp.
I got home at nine and just stared like, “I guess we parking in the street tonight, ’cause the driveway’s gone.”
So tonight, I hit the second workout.
I did me some boxing workout in the backyard —
hit that heavy bag till you could hear the metal chain rattling.
I did me a 27-minute session — all sweat, all focus.
Now I’m sitting here typing away again.
And you know, I was thinking the other day — why am I even writing, bro?
I’m not a writer, and I’m barely pulling in any likes or subscribers.
So I asked myself: why the fuck is this even a thing I feel I ought to do?
This ain’t complaining — this is realizing.
I guess the conclusion I came to is simple: I like it.
It makes me feel good to write.
I’ve always had a problem committing to things unless I knew they’d work out.
This… might not work out — but I enjoy it.
I get to express a bit, scream into the cyber void,
and for the few that take the time to read any of this — thank you.
I gotta go to bed soon.
’Cause my fat ass needs to be ready for tomorrow’s workouts.
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