The Worst Best

Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s because I woke up at 4:30 this morning, thinking about homework due. Maybe it’s because I dream in fits of poor Spanish. This is the worst best semester.
When it begin, I remember walking to my car, repeating, “Fuck. Shit. Fuck…I’m fucked. Shit.” Spanish kicked my ass in five minutes. Medieval Literature had my neck on the chopping block. Sacred Texts felt far from sacred. This semester was supposed to be about claiming my power, and it beat my ass down hard. I thought I was a prize fighter, world champion. I had the belt. But, I was down. One punch, against the ropes and hitting the mat. How did I get here? That was the foggy question when I came to the next morning, like a dazed fighter, head against the mat, staring at a jeering crowd. How did I get here? I’m a champion. I wouldn’t go down like this. So, I pulled my bruised body up. I poured my searing cup of coffee, and sat in silence, making up my mind. I would not quit. I would work harder. Sometimes, the fight is just in showing up. But, each morning I pour my cup of coffee and make the decision to fight back. Then I start throwing punches.


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I am an Artist, Writer and Wayshower. You can see more of my work on Facebook. Please visit my pages. Gordon Hays Artwork: The Good Life with Gordon Radio Show:

One thought on “The Worst Best”

  1. I think this is my favorite post so far. I love it!! Makes me wanna go out and kick some ass. …Metaphorically speaking, of course. Love ya!

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