I went on a 17 mile run/walk yesterday. About an hour ago I gave up Epic-something that means a very great deal to me. Before I go to bed tonight, I am going to do at least 200 crunches-maybe weighted.

I'm 18 years old and despite my "unrealistically high" goals, I find it hard to do anything aside from laying around. Well, I'm good at being self-destructive if that counts for anything.

I just guess that my soul remembers a time when all of life wasn't dictated by numbers and conceptions. A time when life was based on the purest and simplest motives. Sure, those times were barbaric and the women were treated like objects rather than people even more then than now, but at least it was clean.

I want to live life alone. In the forest, half-starved and 5 seconds away from death. Not because I want adventure, not because "it's easier", but simply because it's what I want. It's life and that's the only life that makes any kind of sense to me.

I have all these people telling me to do this and do that so that I won't regret it in the future. I have what seems to be a small army telling me to apply myself to things I don't care about. Maybe I don't care about college and money and assorted b.s. Maybe I'm not worried about the future because I think life is full of opportunities.

I have a problem with opportunities, though. They open doors and offer shortcuts that make everything a whole lot easier. That's not for me. I'm purposely giving myself long-lasting health problems. I am purposely driving myself insane. I am intentionally making it nearly impossible for me to obtain the "American Dream." People say that I'm lazy, but I think it takes an awful lot of work to be that self-destructive...and self-destructive only for the reason to make it even harder for me to succeed in tasks I find worth undertaking. How lazy can I be if I walk/run 17 miles on a sip of Barqs, half a bag of Cracker-Jacks, a 20 ounce fruit punch Gatorade, and an iced honey bun?

I want my life to be hard, otherwise, it's just not worth living. I want my life to be filled with pain and anguish, otherwise, what's the point of being happy? I'm a masochist to the truest sense, because pain is the only reason why we humans are capable of pleasure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some crunches waiting for me.

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