I fell tonight.
Been in a daze for most of the day so when it was finally time to run I wasn’t much better. Got caught in a negative thought loop and before I knew it BAM. Down like a sack of shit. I stayed down for a few seconds to assess if I was really hurt or not but I could tell it was only surface damage. A lot of people seen it too but I didn’t really care. These things happen when you’ve no balance and you’re a clumsy wanker.
I’m not injured but I have stained my new trainers. I guess that gives them a Bruce Willis look. Extra street cred.
The run got better after I fell. I was concentrating on the discomfort of the fall more than the unease in my brain. My brain seems intent on getting the rest of my body in a whole lot of fucking trouble these days.
A shower, some TCP and a bit of rest will sort me out.
I walked into the same supermarket I entered after shitting myself back in May and the guy who seen me shit myself asked ‘What happened to you?!’.
None of your business pal. Nothing came out of my arse at least. I didn’t even butter my cheeks. Now where the fuck are your Bombay Bad Boys?
I’m never out of that fucking shop in Tottenham. On my last weekend on the piss I went up as drunk as a skunk or the lookout for some Mad Dog 20/20 to try to quickly and efficiently reach a state of amnesia. They’ve stopped selling it in most shops because of it’s reputation so I instead had to go for the classic Bailey’s Irish Cream.
I’m off to swab my balls and clean the scrapes up a bit. It looks worse than it actually is.