(joseph&zachariah) I got a really crazy mind to clean.

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I fought it a lot and it seems a lot like flesh is all I got, not anymore, flesh out the door, swat, I must've forgot, you can't trust me, I'm open a moment and close when you show it, before you know it I'm lost at sea,
You weren’t sure how you still manage to not go crazy, to find a job, to not live in your car anymore. You weren’t sure you liked it actually. But for once, you wanted to make things right, you wanted to be the big brother, the one you weren’t really. You let them to themselves, all the times, you were better on the road, you liked it better on the road, away from them, away from your family, not that you don’t like them, you could litteraly take a bullet for each and every one of them, but sometimes, you needed spaces, you needed them to be as far away from you as possible. So you’ll go hunting, or drinking, or fighting or fucking. You didn’t really care, as much as you weren’t too close. So it wasn’t that much of a surprise that they went crazy, that they did what they did. And even several years later, you’re still disgust by it, you still don’t understand, you still blame yourself. And in those moment, you needed to let it go.

That rage inside of you, you might have been able to control it, to put it in a cage, but it was still there, still inside of you, still pumping the blood inside your veins. And sometimes, it needed to go out, you needed to let it go, so you went to the gym and inside the ring, you’ll let yourself go, you’ll let the rage free. Everything around you, it seemed red, you liked it when you could swing your fist onto the face of someone else. And you could be there hours onto hours, punching into that bag, or simply in the ring. When you needed the rage to go out, when you needed someplace where you could punch, it was here. In fact, you didn’t came around quite often, you liked it better on the road, hunting.

And you were here, punching in the bag, waiting for someone to get up on the ring so you could punch his face as much as you wanted, so you could let the rage out, you could be normal again, cage it inside your mind and think again. It is was it is, but when the hatred pumped your blood, when it was so intense you could feel it burn you, you couldn’t think anymore, all you wanted to do was killing every damn creatures you could find, each and every one of them. But you know you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself, you know that voice you start listening too a while ago, it wouldn’t let you in peace. You couldn’t kill the women, neither the children. It is stupid, but all you could feel for them was pity, only pity. It wasn’t a game if they couldn’tt defend themselves. So you let them live, anyway, not like they could do much damage too anyone. You punch the bag again, and let out a weird laugh, your family must think you turned weak or something.

You ssee a guy going into the ring and you smile. Finally. You let the punching bag alone, follow him into the ring, the smile still on your lips. You like it better when it’s someone and not a fucking bag that you punch. Makes the rage goes out faster, makes your troubled mind find it’s way easier. You put on your gloves and look at the man in front of you. You stop everything, one moment, and you laugh. It’s good to laugh, you like it, not that you ever restrain yourself from doing so.

‘’Eh! Aren’t you like a pro or something?’’

You don’t really watch a lot of sports, but it happens, so you know some faces, some names, but in general, you wouldn’t even be able to recognize one of them. Except him, strangely, on the ring, it always seemed like the only one that really had this rage. Strangely, it was because of one of his match that you started boxing, seeing the man letting out the rage, you though that it might work for you too. It was kinda weird to see him live in front of you, in a boxe ring. But you wouldn’t back up, you would fight even if that means beeing knocked out in five minutes.

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It makes sixteen years now that I left the boxe ring. And eleven years for the MMA cage. Nonetheless, I still have this willingness to fight. It never left me. And I kept boxing since. It's like my everyday routine, like if I need it to live. I would lie if I say that I do not miss this good old time. This time when I was the winner of the world, when the crowd was chanting my name, my surname, the Thunderbolt. It fitted me so well. People do not know, but they were so right. 'Cause I was the one making these thunderbolts in summer time, when the storm was here. Even if I was able to control myself, I liked to let it go, to let it explode. It gave me strength, let me express myself through these powerful flashing lights and noises.
Nevertheless, the reason I gave up all of this, is the best one in the world. My little girl, my little princess. After the murder of her mother, she was needing her father more than anything. And I refused to be the kind of father who doesn't care of her child, and put his career in priority. It's not who I am. It wasn't even tough, in that way. To give my title away, to let all my glory behind me. 'Cause it was for my angel, and for her, I didn't allow me to go in alcohol, in depression and sadness.

This morning, I wake up early, around 6am. My night hasn't been great, as always. At least this time, it seems that I didn't wake up Mali, as she is not sleeping next to me. Perhaps we can call it a good night then. Anyway, I'm not able to stay here one more minute, lying in my bed watching the ceiling. I make the breakfast for my girl, who will get ready for school soon, and eat some scrambled eggs with a juice. I can't eat much, that early in the morning, and coffee is not really for me. Instead, to make me ready for the day, I prefer to run and work out. I warm up, and go for a run of around 2 hours on cliffs, and inside the forest.
I usually not miss a day to practice. I never stopped doing sport, I was even doing it with Mali, when she was a child. She was on my back during push-ups, in my arms during running. Still sometimes, when the desire takes her, she comes with me running, and I take her on my back when she feel too tired.

I look my watch, 9am. Nothing bad happened yet today. And I feel pretty in a good mood, comparing to other days. Having nothing planed in the morning, I just decide to go to the boxing gym. Even if I have my own ring in the Casino, and not the smallest one, it sometimes feels better to punch a man than a bag. Let's see if there will be someone strength and bold enough to fight me. Which is not always the case. Then I feel like I could teach, give some tips to the ones who will dare. Actually today, I could even train some kids with the trainer, who I know pretty well. Usually, I avoid to come in bad days, to beat a man that just desires to learn boxe. I have plenty of jerks to take care of. Boxe is kind of sacred for me. Sometimes I meet boys or girls passionate enough to know my name, although they weren't even born in my glory time.

So I come into the gym, and go say hi to the trainer. I look around, and see one or maybe two guys that could join me into the ring. Grabbing my personal gloves in the office, I jump inside. I warm myself up a bit, punching in the void, but after one or two, one of the guys is already in front of me. He starts to laugh, and ask the question I like. And I can't help myself but have this little smirk on the face while I answer him. "Ya' could be, something like that."
I start to move, jumping on my feet. I let him hit me first, and touch me. And two other time after. It can sounds weird, but I like to take some knocks. So I can feel its strength, how a good opponent he could be. I know I'm not putting myself in danger of knockout, not here, even if he is a complete stranger. I let him hit once more, before I start parry. "You're boxing since quite a long time, aren't you ?" I ask. I give my first punch. I'm not willing to do a KO, KO is not funny, and I don't want to stop the game that fast. For once, I maybe have someone with who I can really boxe a bit. It doesn't mean that I will restrain myself to hit fast and hard.
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I fought it a lot and it seems a lot like flesh is all I got, not anymore, flesh out the door, swat, I must've forgot, you can't trust me, I'm open a moment and close when you show it, before you know it I'm lost at sea,
A smile on your face, you knew who he was, but you didn’t went further, you weren’t the type of guy that dig much. You knew, you didn’t had to hear it from him to make sure you were right. Nah, you didn’t cared much. He could’ve been anyone, you didn’t care, you wanted to punch, punch until one of you was knocked out on the floor. Let the rage fill you, let it fill the void inside of you, that emptiness created by your very own hatred, by yourself when you decided to get a job, to stop running around, to stop hunting for a living. That emptiness that open up when you quit Africa, when you decided your family was more important than your best friend, your partner. You didn’t even knew if it was the right decision, if you were right to quit everything you ever stand for to go back with that crazy family of yours. You knew you had to come back, to be the big brother you never were. You knew you had to took some responsabilities, to grow up, but it didn’t meant you liked it. It didn’t meant you thought it was good for you. You did it because you thought you had no other choice, because for once in your life, you actually missed your little brother, your sister. You missed them even though you couldn’t face them. It took you a long time to grow over what they did, to stop thinking about it, to stop thinking of it everytime you though of them. It took you way too long, but now, it wasn’t in your head as much, you didn’t saw him on top of her everytime you looked at him or at her. It took you long enough, you though it was normal to come back. It was your family wasn’t it?

It didn’t took you long to throw the first punch, it felt so good inside of you, to punch someone, again an again. And even if you knew he was testing you, testing your strengh, even if you knew he could probably knocked you out in five minutes, you were good, but you weren’t as good as him, and that you knew. I smile at his question, it’s quite funny when you’re in front of the living person that made you start boxing. That person that you watched when you were a teeneger, thinking that it could be your way out of your rage, like it seemed to him. You didn’t knew him, you only knew what he represented to you, that you could watch him for hour, amazed by that rage inside of him, it could almost feel like you knew him, like you were connected. You didn’t care much about anything else around that time, you spent your days in the gym, trying to evacuate that rage inside of you, evacuate the hatred.  Even now, you only knew two ways, boxing and hunting. And you took pleasure in both, you loved both.

“I’ve started boxing after I saw you on the ring for the first time”

You don’t mind sharing, particularly with him. Maybe because all this time, all the times you watch him on tv, all the times you saw his rage, you though that he was somewhat like you, you created a link that never existed, but now that he was in front of you, now that you had a chance to box with him, that link you created, it was like it was coming back all over again. You didn’t knew him, not at all, but it was as if.

“You seemed to had the same rage that I had. Though that if you could manage it with boxing, I could too.”

You throw a punch again, waiting for him to start doing anything else than simply defending himself. You wanted him to fight, you wanted to fight. To let go of the rage, let go of everything else. You wanted to simply hear the rythm of your heart, the sound of your respiration, the punches against the skin. You wanted to go into your zone, to fight like hellfire.

And then he punched you. You groan under the pain that caused you, but you didn't back down, you didn't stop, trying to defend yourself, to give back every punch you take. You expected it to be hard, he was a damn pro, but you didn't expect him to be that fast. And for a moment, you thought that you could be as fast as him, with a good teacher, a good coach. You learned everything by yourself, you learned everything from scratch, and you thought that for the first time in your life, you were in the same city for a long time, you could make the most out of it.
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The rage. It's a good let motiv. The rage against the world, against people, myself. It has started with my father, when I was still a child. When I was full of hatred, because of him beating my mom, me. It led me to anger, jealousy maybe, when I was seeing kids crying because their parents didn't buy them that little candy. While I was trying not to cry when dear daddy was knocking me. I've always been aside, never willing to get mixed with the boys in school. After being in a fight or two, I think they were afraid of me. And kinda jealous too, 'cause I was the one talking the most to girls. Growing up, these facts haven't really change, it's pretty much the same thing today.

My father dead, and most of all, my mom, that rage went against myself. At the beginning, I didn't know I was the one that killed them, but I was feeling it. I knew it deep inside. And I was hating myself for having survive. For a while, I would have preferred to be dead. I did not try to kill myself, but can't lie, the thought was haunting me for several years. More again, when I killed my girlfriend, and remembered everything. All this rage, I put it in boxe. I ended by going to the gym every single day. I wanted to be the best, to make her proud. To change the world I was living in, to let the past in the past and turn the page. My story is what makes me champion of the world of boxe at my 17yo. 

The rage calm down when I met Rozenn. She made me learn how to like myself, control myself, my power. She definitely is my savior. Still today, even though she is dead. Thanks to her, I did not get totally mad, I get a real life, not just a one of fight and glory. I get love, a girl, things, people to care of, think of. The rage wasn't controlling me anymore, I was controlling her. I was using her to the best, leading me at 23yo to be champion of the world of MMA. And the rage never left me, she just doesn't have the power anymore.

" Seemed to have ? Want to see if that rage is still somewhere ? " I say, with that little smirk. Yes would be an unconscious answer. 'Cause I believe he know what would wait for him, if he has been watching me. The Thunderstorm is not my name for nothing. My speciality is beating again and again, without stopping, fast enough to not let the time to parry after the first punch. Ended by a final punch stronger than the others, often the last one of the round, a knock out. I will not end by it if I get a yes, but still, without being a pro, he could fall down without.

" You should say no, you're gonna be beat a lot otherwise, not sure you're able to stand it. " I smile. I'm playing with him. Playing with the ego of a man is often the good answer to get in a nice fight, I know it too much, as this works first of all with me. The thing is that I'm almost always sure to win, or not to finish in a too bad shape.
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I fought it a lot and it seems a lot like flesh is all I got, not anymore, flesh out the door, swat, I must've forgot, you can't trust me, I'm open a moment and close when you show it, before you know it I'm lost at sea,
The rage inside of you, it was always growing, always getting more ferocious by the minute. It was hell inside of you and before, you didn’t had a way of controlling it, it was controlling you. You never had a clear head, you could see red in seconds, you could jump on someone only because he was alive. It was the rage inside of you that was using you, it wasn’t the other way around. It took you a long time before being able to control it, to used it at your own advantage. It took you long enougn, but you did it. Mostly because of boxing, because of hunting. It was your way of canalising the energy that result from it. It was your way of saying that you were the boss now.

“Well, is it?”

A smile on your face, your playing with him, laughing, because it is what you do best. Taunting people, laughing, smiling, fighting. And you might not be a pro, you’ll never be, you didn’t want to, you fight with all you heart, you put everything you have in a fight, whatever the outcome was. Mostly because it was your way of learning. You didn’t though you could ever stop learning, you will always have someone else to beat, someone else to learn from.

“Hell mate! I’ll never say no to a fight with a legend, even if that means being knocked out in five minutes. I might no be as good as you, but even then, if I can learn some tricks from a pro, I won’t back down.”

He might had try to play with your ego, to play with you, but you didn’t took yourself seriously, you never did. You laugh at yourself more often than you do anything else, you know you’re not the best at anything, that you can still learn from people better than you. You never were quite arrogant weren’t you? You’re the down to earth type of people, you never judge someone else before you get to fight them, mostly because you learned from your own mistakes. You were once arrogant, thought that no one could ever beat you, and then you went in Africa and everything change. You got yourself in trouble more often than you swear, and you do swear a lot. You changed, not always for the best, you’re sill the kinda of guy that rely more on luck than he should, but you don’t really care, you don’t care about being a better man, about what other think of you.

“What, are you afraid of a simple man like me?”

A laugh, again, a smile. You still had that rage inside of you, it was only asking to be release, to get out in a burst of hatred and violence. And you knew he still had the same inside of him, because you were alike, you knew what that rage was, you knew that it never quit, it was always there, it never quit, never left. You could control it, you could take control, be the boss, but you’ll never be free of it.

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(joseph&zachariah) I got a really crazy mind to clean.
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