II. Fitness: a lack thereof

I pant, heavily. My body rooted to the floor, weighed down by the very bones and flesh that give me form. At first, it was but a mere drop, a drop that became a stream, that grew into rivers. My sweat, rained down uncontrollably. A lack of control. Yes, that is how I’ve often felt. I pant, heavier still. My head throbbing to the rhythm of my pulse, the latter aggressively seeking to break through the confines of the skin and flesh that clothe it.

They say that pain is weakness leaving the body. But I, have never felt weaker.

II. Fitness: a lack thereof

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