Dear Diary,
Been excercising myself crazy these few days. Started out on a new working out regime of climbing up and down the stairs in my HDB block and everytime i reach those lift floors, to sprint from one end to the other end. Can die man... This kind of workout is crazy. I can barely pia 5 rounds and before I know it, I am dead, lying on the ground, motionless. Then I would make my way to those public pull-up bars to execute the pull-up program my previous canoeing coach had enacted for the team. Though I had always find it pointless and quite boring... it still helps lah, one way or the other. I don't know why...after so many months already... I still find that I am just so unlucky to have him as my coach. One, he does not come down to paddle with us, at least I had never experienced that before. Two, he is a damn sucker who only metes out punishment as and when he likes. Three, I just don't like him. And to be honest with you, Mr Diary, I had been feeling all these after dragon boating competition. The day when he tried to 'motivate' us. We, the team whom he had never coached before. In my opinion, he had never coached us ever since. All he had ever done was to tell what is to be done and what's not. That is all. Period. Fuck!
My bad mood is still there. I can feel it everytime and i had turned into a fucker ever since. Damn angry with anything, everything. Maybe i would feel better with this poem which i had make before the results. Here it goes.
The Tree
Dear tree, O tree
How pitiful are thee
Make food under the blazing light,
still laboring under the glaring night.
Dear tree, O tree
How pitiful are thee...
FUcking hell. Feeling even worse right now. Maybe some 10K run will do. Fucking hell
Life is but a broken pencil...pointless