BULLETS ˎˊ˗

the end

↻
1 DAY LATER,
SMACK DOWN.

"Please leave your voice message after the tone."

"Fergal,
dearest grumpy curmudgeon,
you have every right to be mad at me ...
but this is the thousandth time I've called you,
so fuuu ...
c'mon dude.
... please call me back, that be really tight."

I end the call with a long sigh, wishing and hoping he'd just call back. There is 24 hours in a day, and yesterday, I only spent two of those hours sleeping.

Well,
trying to.

My mind wouldn't was relentless, unforgiving and unwilling to allow any room for tranquility. There was a war-zone in my mind, my body tense as If I were a troop out in the battlefield.

No matter how many times I tossed and turned in bed, I couldn't get comfortable. I scratched and even clawed my skin from the guilt that was driving me insane.

I felt dirty.

For the past few weeks, I have been so unlike myself. I doubted someone who's always been by my side, one way or another.

Even when I don't see eye to eye with Fergal and his mind that's able to produce visions from start to beginning, his heart is pure.

I should have known better.

His intentions are always well-spirited, even if he masks them behind insults and harshness like when I enrolled into his wrestling school.

There wasn't a day in that school were he didn't make me cry,
where he didn't make me second-guess my decision to enroll,
where he didn't take a toll on my body with the insane work-out drills,

but,

there also wasn't a day where I came back the same.

Every day I came back better,
stronger,
and more resilient.

Every morning that I walked through the doors for another session, he'd always join me by the water stand where I'd drink a cup of water and also stretch out before joining the group at the far end where we practiced on barely-cushioned mats.

My drinking a cup of water + stretching wasn't the routine I looked forward to each new day. The routine I looked most forward to was Fergal standing beside the water stand and asking me this:

"Ready for me to break you?"
"Not today Satan,
not today."

I'd reply, always enjoying his boyish chuckle that came afterwards before he'd severely pull my arm back to commence my warm-up to yet another grueling day that was designed to weedle out quitters, and forge warriors.

"Broken down I see?"

Fergal would smirk when the day was over and I'd be sitting on a bench, catching my breath.

"I'm unbreakable."

I'd say, earning his way of showing appraisal by taking his hand that he'd extend out to me. Fergal would pull my ass off of the bench and walk me to the locker room where he'd tell me silly thoughts he had throughout the day like: