Fight Club

Tonight we had our own “fight club” for the first time. I got the text invitation just as I was thinking about swallowing all the pills in my medicine cabinet…it seemed like a nice alternative to a suicide attempt, so I agreed. Call them odd for emulating such an idea, but it beats the hell out of pumping iron at the tool cage on the ASU Tempe campus, I guess. There were only six of us behind the abandon furniture store across from the tracks, but it was more than enough to get things rolling. The energy was immense…like doing lines of blow at the peak of the world’s tallest roller coaster. I felt sorry for the first kid—I don’t think he had ever been in a fight before. He was putting his thumbs inside his fist. That’s a big no no. During the second match I got my ass kicked in directions I didn’t know existed. It felt great…just like Tyler said it would. All rounds were stopped before things got too out of hand.

Many people wont understand these actions. That is a simple fact. People who firmly believe that violence has no place in society are mostly correct, but this is the one exception. Consensual violence can be quite therapeutic in the right context, and it’s better to deliver a 2800 N punch to the face of someone who wants it then someone who doesn’t. Now, I could never see myself taking anger on someone else unless it was self defense or a sport fight like this. We’re all loose cannons.

When it was done, we shook hands. If I felt a lot less angry I can only imagine how they felt. They all needed it way more than I did. I’ve never seen Jack (for the purpose of not naming names, we shall call him Jack) with a smile that big on his face. When he was in elementary school his dad would come home drunk a lot. And by a lot I mean A LOT. Sometimes he used to take take Jack into his room and turn the lights off. Jack would be whimpering because he knew exactly what was about to happen. His father who he loved would strip off all Jack’s clothes until he was completely naked, then proceed to beat him with a belt and buckle until the rashes on his body were so painful he couldn’t lay down in his bed. He said that at the time, he loved his dad with all his heart and would never have thought to report him to CPS. He genuinely thought there was something wrong with him. He thought he was simply being punished for what he did wrong, whatever that could have been. Robert’s (for the purpose of not naming names, we shall call him Robert) younger brother had an addiction to choking himself. He would even do it in class or at Sunday school. His face would turn purple, then he would go to sleep. I’ve never met his parents, but apparently they were uneducated, religious hicks who thought a spanking would do more good than a visit to a psychiatrist. Two years ago, his brother died in Robert’s room from a self inflicted shotgun wound to the head. The gun was also Robert’s.

People who don’t understand this behavior probably didn’t have a childhood like Jack’s, or Robert’s or mine, or yours. Forget them. There are people out there who you can relate to, and there are people out there that are worth fighting through the pain for. Most of you on this site are very young…too young to thing that there is nothing left for yourself on this planet. I wont go into detail about my story, but it was bad. Really bad. But I was lucky enough to find those people before I made my time run out, and tonight my eyes have been opened. I am trying to tell you to hold on. There are people along the way that will make you glad you didn’t take your own life. I promise.

After the fights, I felt happy for the first time since…I can’t even remember when. This is my new therapy.

Good luck to you all.

-Aaron