400 Push Ups

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So I understand that this entire post only exists in the medium of a “Humble Brag” but it also exists because at this very moment in time I am absurdly angry and I need to vent.

In life there’s very little things you can control. That kind of messes a lot of people up. They feel miserable, as if they’re just being dragged through life by the most faintest string- but there’s lots of strings attached to you and although you resent these strings for pulling you along, you can’t bring yourself to cut them loose because you place a value on them.

Plus all throughout your life you’ve seen loads of people with little to no strings and they still look miserable since they don’t know what to do with themselves.

This kind of resentment to the lack of control people have over their own lives leads to some individuals to self harm. Some wish to kill themselves, others might just be desperate for attention so they can get help. But mostly, mostly, people do it just for the pain.

They’re not masochists per se, but it is the one continual glimmer of influence they hold over their own lives. You might not be able to control anything, but you can control pain- and to some people that’s all they can afford.

I myself have a different strategy. Every day for the last week and a half I have been doing 400 Push Ups a day.

I can do a set of about 100 push-ups in a row until I, well, can no longer push up. My arms hurt like hell afterwards but I get a rush of endorphins and I feel Fucking Amazing. I do that four times throughout the day.

That’s in the back of my mind all day. Whenever I’m doing work or walking about or on the bus the same thought echoes throughout my mind “400 Push Ups” no matter what happens. I might only get three hours sleep one night, but I’ll make time to do 400 Push-ups. I might not be able to do much of anything, but I can do 400 Push-ups.

This basic shit really helps me get through the day, especially in an increasingly artificial world.

Take today for example, Fucking shit I’ll tell you. It was like -3 Degrees Celsius outside but there was fuck all snow- which is the only redeeming quality to this kind of weather is that for just this moment you get to walk around in a bunch of fluffy-frozen-water that is socially acceptable to throw at someone-its perfect!

Tech was…well, Tech. I’ve made my abhorrence of Derry City known in my previous articles. A tech in Derry is as bad as it sounds, it may prove to be a worse experience than my Primary School years. But I’ve yet to deal with any repressed memories from this institution- but it’s close.

Over the past few years I’ve came to the Horrifying realisation that almost all adults are fucking morons and that no one knows what the fuck they are doing. A truly unbearable realisation to a recently Legal Adult like myself. When you’re young and you’re on the bus you have full trust in the bus driver because you assume that they know what they’re doing. Now you gradually realise they don’t understand how to operate the gear stick, they can barely see and yet miraculously they still found a way to hate black people.

One thing really fucking irked the living shit out of me today. I had a dentist appointment today at like 14.15 and I had to get the bus at 13.30, nearly Fucking missed it because I overestimated how long a video with Conan O’Brien was and I had to Fucking bolt out of there.

Well, by “bolt” I mean “walk quickly” I have this stigma about running in public. I gained it in first year of secondary school, one month in. I was this chubby little fat fuck who almost missed the bus because I had PE. The school is divided up into two sections; there’s the main section in the middle of town and there’s the wee building about a mile and a half away. That wee building used to be an all girl’s school but eventually they integrated it with the lads, the building was used to educate first years and second years but they had to remove the second years cause they kept bullying the first years.

So we got a bus from the wee building up to the main building to catch the other bus home. So I was running for this connecting bus, made it by a hair. My throat felt like I’d chugged gasoline. At that point I didn’t think too much of my running form, that was up until some Red Faced Cunt from Bellaghy came up and yelled “You Run like a Pure Retard” and then laughed like a whore. I didn’t even know what the word “Retard” meant, people made fun of me for my ignorance. Eventually someone did explain it to me, but by that point the damage was done. Kids are assholes.

But back to the future. So I almost missed this 13.30 bus, I was so worried I actually lightly jogged for a few metres. But when I did get to the bus I found it to be surprisingly empty. I got on paid for the ticket, but the Fucking Bus Driver was like “You have to buy a ticket in the building” even though he has a fucking Ticket Machine RIGHT THERE. Fuck, I was so goddamn Fucking irked. I would have been extremely annoyed if it weren’t for the fact that he had enough sense that he had to go that very Fucking minute so the dumb fuck typed in his stupid Fucking ticket machine and I got my fucking ticket. Honest to fuck, why have a machine there right-front-and-centre if you’re not going to Fucking use it. I was so goddamn irked, it was hysterical.

Now this fucking dentist appointment made me so goddamn angry. First off I had to wait for like forty five minutes, I was so goddamn born but I was also incredibly angry- which is worse because anger is just this toxic emotion that’s only good for destruction- and there’s very little in the world that you’re allowed to Destroy so you have to keep it bottled up, so it’ll char out your insides.

What made matters worse is that some cunt that came in twenty minutes after I did somehow saw the dentist before me. That really fucking pissed me off.

I eventually did see the dentist, turned out the entire Fucking thing was a colossal waste of time. Like I just got my braces off so my Orthodontist recommended I get filling for the gaps in my teeth. So that’s what I was supposed to get today but the Dentist was like “Oh no, we can’t do anything because that’ll mean your retainer won’t fit” and I was like…Fuck.

She handed me this form that I’d fill out and then send to my local jobs centre who would send it off to someone else all whether to see I get get a reduced rate or whether I’d just have to pay for it out of my own pocket.

I got really fucking depressed when she handed me this form. Like I was just this little blip in this beaurachractic beast. We live in the best times as far as quality of life is concerned, but this paperwork is just soul crushing. Like back eight hundred odd years ago you may not have ate much or had a long life, but you earned the fruits of your labor. You earned that log by cutting that tree, you earned that corn by growing those crops- but this? This is just a piece of paper, linked to another piece of paper and so on and so forth. None of it is real, we just tell eachother it has value- but it physically doesn’t.

I think that’s why people people who work in offices are so goddamn miserable. Yours dealing in invisible things; things you can neither see nor touch- they might as well not be real.

So I didn’t get any work done on my teeth. What I did do was get absurdly angry while I was filling out this stupid Fucking form- the worst part was the National Insurance Number. I have no fucking clue what that Fucking means but apparently it’s insanely important- which only makes it more infuriating when I can’t find it.

Honest to fuck you think something that goddamn important would be on the bank report in bold with it Fucking underlined for good measure. But no, I have to go through a fuckton of stupid Fucking paper, all of which have numbers on them but not the right number.

So that made me mad. So of course I took a break to do 100 push-ups, but fifteen minutes later I was still angry so I did 100 more. My arms hurt like hell, but at least it was real.

So I’ve been working out on and off since I was like fifteen. I was a wee fat fuck and I felt shit so I decided to start excercising. When I started I could barely do a pushup or run more than fifty metres before I was out of breath.

Fuck, I had so little upper body strength I couldn’t even take a wank. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be so weak that you can’t even masturbate? It’s Fucking awful.

A few years ago I’d still be embarrassed to tell you that story, or any story for that matter. But not anymore. I’m different now, physically and mentally. That fat little kid is dead. A part of me is sad, because although he was annoying he was so pure and innocent. While now I’m spoilt, corrupt to the core. I’ve seen and heard too much shit.

I go on and off working out. Like sometimes I’ll work out daily for a few weeks but then go off a month, kind of fucks up the routine. Like two weeks ago I could barely make it to forty push ups and now I can do a hundred easily.

It’s a little surreal when you do it. Like you get on your hands and tip toes and push up and down and up and down- before you know it you’re at twenty but you’re not even tired. It’s an awkward position though, almost no other activities require you to face the floor in such close proximity so after twenty five you start to think “Fuck this is taking ages” while in reality you’ve barely been at it for fifteen seconds. Then of course you start to worry about whether or not you’ve miscounted so you overcorrect by doing an extra ten or twenty and by the time you reach 99 you’re so paranoid that you refuse to quit until you fall on your face in exhaustion.

I’ve noticed a lot of change in a relatively short amount of time. My arms have gotten much bigger and my chest is more defined so I’m feeling a lot better about myself. Honest to fuck after 400 push ups you feel so strong- like you could crush a skull with your bare hands.

…Well, maybe a baby skull.

So every day, no matter what, I do 400 push ups. It’s how I stay sane, how I make sure that each day matters.

Now if you’re reading this you might consider yourself to be a fat fuck or a scrawny little fuck and you might feel like shit. You might want to start getting back control of your life but you don’t know where to start. I have only one thing to say to that;

Do One Push up.

You might find that extremely difficult, which is fine- we all start somewhere. But keep at it again and again and again- until you can do it easily.

Then do another one. You find that easy do three. Then five, ten, twenty, fifty- one hundred push ups.

Then see if you can do 400 push-ups in one day. Not all at once, that’s how you hurt yourself. You’re not looking to hurt yourself. You’re looking to test yourself, to push your boundaries and build upon it.

Things like depression aren’t just mental, they’re physical. You can’t just expect that you’ll sort all your shit out in your head. No, you need to do some real shit.

You need to eat healthier, get regular exercise, take back tiny portions of your life and you will gradually shift your way out into the light.

And if you think that’s impossible, keep in mind I was once so fat I couldn’t even take a wank, now I can do 400 Push Ups. What can you do?


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