The gym is still mocking me even on days I skip it, it's like my muscles are screaming from memory alone and it's not even a GOOD memory you know? It's just the ghost of pain, the shadow of ambition maybe? I was looking at old photos today and it wasn't even the youth that got me it was the POSSIBILITY, that feeling that everything was still unwritten. Now it feels like the story's half over and I skipped a bunch of chapters so I'm just wandering through the ending without knowing what the hell happened. Columbus is quiet tonight but it's a different kind of quiet, a heavy quiet...like it's holding its breath, waiting for something that isn't coming.