Yeah, I’m in some kind of funk. I think of the gym and I think “Yeah, I should go, but what for?”.
– “Oh, so you can look good naked, dumbass?”
Yeah, whatever. Sure, I’ll find love based on how I look. That’s not love, based on looks. Even if I get love, I’ll lose the looks eventually, and then what. Then what? If the looks goes away, then love would follow?
– “Fine, forget love. Look good so you can get laid more often!”
Yeah, whatever. That’s why God gaves us men hands, you know? Who needs real love ¬¬
– “Allright, then train to be stronger!”
I don’t need to be stronger, really. I’m strong enough already, lifting those heavy grocery bags.
– “But what about bettering yourself? Being the best you can?”
I would try and be the guy who watches more of “The Simpson” episodes ever and it would be a way to better myself. The Guinnes record of couch-potato-ness and the biggest lift ever, they both get a place in that book.
– “What about your health? Don’t you wanna live an active life up to your 90th birthday?”
If by “life” you mean from work to home to work to home and etc, and weekends that are so eventless and uninteresting that they make me wanna cry… I don’t wanna live until 90 years old.
– “OK, fuck it. I’m out of ideas”.
I’m out of ideas too…