Hold my girl
Him: Dude, get an MRI.
Me: I can’t do it, man. I can’t go back to another fucking hospital.
Him: You gotta get checked out.
Chad’s worried about me. Diving headfirst into a concrete divider – even with a helmet – can’t possibly be good. My insomnia is back with a vengeance and I feel cloudy in my head again.
Plus my neck and wrist aren’t getting any better. Everything about me feels…off.
Was walking to the gym the other day when this song came on and it gutted me.
Dunno if it’s the season, the lack of sleep, or the accident but I don’t feel exactly like myself anymore.
I walked into my first kali class, with my then girlfriend, 17 years ago. Even know the exact date: Tuesday, February 17, 2004.
A major reason why I never really told anyone about my doing kali was such a strong sense of imposter syndrome. For example, the Scenic Fights guys asked me to do their series but I turned them down for over a year before we shot our first episode.
Turned them down mainly because I was taking care of Alison. And then I was busy drinking and womanizing. But also because I didn’t feel I was the right man for the job.
Yet for some reason, they kept asking me so I finally gave in. I tell them all that I’m touched that they thought I was worth waiting for.
Yet, even now, I still feel like an imposter. Like, What am I doing teaching this stuff?
So much of my life – being a lawyer, being a teacher, being a network analyst, being a writer, working the clubs – I felt like an imposter.
Still feel that but that’s taken a back seat to my newest imposter neurosis:
I’m a father? I’m it? He’s got no mother, no brothers, no sisters. I’m it?
This has all gottta be some cosmic joke.
Shit, I can barely take care of Harold. And yet, I’m all this kid has. We can’t even go to Alison’s family’s this coming holiday because COVID’s still not under control.
And, again, this whole time was supposed to be bonus. Instead, it’s just shit.
I’m all he’s got.
Like I said, I was walking to the gym and this song came on. And it gutted me.
I’m sorry, kid. I’m sorry, I’m all you got. You deserve a real family.
But, FWIW, I love you like a fat kid loves cake. I love you more than all the gold in the world.
Hopefully, that’s enough. I suppose it’s gotta be.