Time just makes bitches of us all, doesn't it? You starve; you run and you bench and you press and you crunch and you stretch and you sweat and you starve; you read and you study and you cultivate and you socialize and you flirt and you practice and you suck and you fuck and you lick and you stand and you stay and you go; you ask and you work and you slave and you give and you keep on. Till what? You give up, you refuse, you lift and you get sucked and stretched and filled. And you bloat and you bruise and you flab.
Then, one day, you dare to look back at your proudest moment just to realize it was a lie, after all. Nothing but a big ridiculous and humiliating farce. Or, worst, some sick game. Which does not invalidate it as being so, because all that is done. And your finest hour is still, and will be, irreparably gone.
Then, one day, you dare to look back at your proudest moment just to realize it was a lie, after all. Nothing but a big ridiculous and humiliating farce. Or, worst, some sick game. Which does not invalidate it as being so, because all that is done. And your finest hour is still, and will be, irreparably gone.
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