Tuesday, July 18, 2023

Maybe I don't wanna be picked.



After considering the options within another washroom break.

No thanks, I work enough hours, gymtwentyfour.

To follow such a schedule that lies and lets others off the hook on fulfilling their physical needs is that. Ricky with, they're industrialized leftovers. I'd rather wear the many hats of a small business, face to music if it fails. Then follow along with a plan that leads its clients down the dangerous path.

It's an opportunity, a one in a million, and I don't want it. I have the body, and they want it. They want my intuition of auto-regulating other people. That fire I have of pushing others to be their best, ways of pushing forward.

Am I the hack here, though, by opening my services up towards the internet and starting my own garage gym? With my own business that's around the corner?

Who knows? He who laughs lasts, I'll keep it as polite as possible. Yet it's all bubbling inside me.

Bubbling hatred

I need a break. Promoted into fire, no thanks.

Yet all these moments of staring at myself with this decision with all the force of mechanized bottom-barrel that they lick, somebody has to have the standard.