Updated: Jun 24
“I love when we spar together, man! It’s like poetry in motion!”
Well, sir—who has several professional fights under his belt; and even a few championship belts—let me tell you how it feels to me.
It feels like drowning.
It feels like suffering.
It feels like suffocating.
It’s a dangerous game that we play, sir. And we play it hard when the two of us are across from the other.
It’s always been this way.
He is someone who has a similar skill set as me, and that is rare.
We trade punches.
I can’t tell who gets hit more, me or him; and I can always tell.
It feels like flirting with death.
It feels like an invitation for pain.
It feels like pure competition.
The face hurts.
The lungs burn.
The legs are gone.
And we are only getting started.
It doesn’t feel like art.
It doesn’t feel like a dance.
It doesn’t feel like problem solving.
I used to tell people all of that.
It feels like 3 minutes of chaos.
Then, there's a 40 second break.
That’s when you can really feel the suffering.
The buzzer sounds, and it’s back to the chaos.
“Watching you fight is like watching art.”
Well, that was always the idea when creating this side of myself.
I just didn’t know it would feel like this.
. . .
Who am I kidding? Myself?
I knew exactly how this would feel,
And I still chose it.