The one thing I don’t do but I fantasize about constantly:
I grew up fighting. I was heavily involved in the martial arts ever since I was young. I had an outlet, a channel for my aggression in a safe, healthy, constructive environment. Because I’ve moved so often in the last few years I haven’t had the ability to find a new place to continue my study.
It’s come in handy a couple times in the real world when guys have tried to press their advantage with me only to have their wind knocked out and taken aback by someone half their size. I’ve never been in out right fights though, like bar room brawls, in the real world, though I fantasize about it constantly. Especially when I’m running. If I want to amp up my energy, creating a scenario in my mind where I’m rescuing a pretty girl from some drunken brute, or disarming someone that has me at gun point with less than honorable intentions… it sets my heart pounding, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I’m not afraid of damaging myself. Some days I even welcome it. I know how much my body can take and I’ve survived the worst that can be done to it. Short of death I have no fear of injury because I already know I can survive anything that I’m dealt. And I do mean anything. I don’t fear pain. The thought of taking a blow to the face, the stomach, the chest, doesn’t deter me, it makes me gasp and come back stronger, attack more fiercely. My anger boiling and bubbling over until all I am is a fury of fists and feet.
In my visions I never escape unscathed, I take my hits, bruised and sometimes broken, but I’m never beat down, never relent. I always get back up and I always end up on top. Some day I’ll push this into reality and see just how well my fantasies match up to reality….