Dear Reader

The Emotional Journal is mostly a collection of fictional journal entries by the characters of Telly Serone. These entries may contain adult language, sexual innuendo, erotic themes, and downright sexual content. Therefore, this site is intended for adults age 18 and over.

You can simply scroll down the page to read entries to The Emotional Journal, starting with the most recent. You can find specific entries under "Recent Journal Entries" on the right side of the screen. Entries are also grouped by "label" just below "Recent Journal Entries." Be sure to leave a comment about The Emotional Journal. Various characters will post several entries. Catch a glimpse into their thoughts and lives, and follow them through new experiences.

Friday, April 27, 2007

desmond h.

dear ej,

Torry Logan does not stand a chance against me. He never has. I beat him when we were kids. I beat him when we were amateurs. I beat him in the Olympic trials. I'm sure he knows that I will beat him again. But still, he demands to fight me. What a fool.

I'm in the best shape of my life. My body has never been more chiseled. I look like a sculpted piece of stone. My abs are rock hard. It's like I'm wearing a molded plate of armor.

My feet have never been quicker. I'm like lightning whether I step in or out. Yesterday when I was leaving the gym after I broke training, I amazed some little girls down the block who were turning double-dutch. No matter how fast they turned, the rope never touched me.

My hands are putting on a display of speed and power that is almost never-before-seen. When I'm punching the speed bag everybody in the gym just stops and stares. The sound is so rhythmic. It reminds you of a drummer in a military marching band. The cadence is perfect.

I almost lost another sparring partner today because I hit too hard. The only way my manager could talk him into staying was if I wore gloves with extra padding. It's like I'm a cyborg with metal underneath my skin. But still, Torry Logan demands to fight me.

My ring vision is unbelievable. I see punches coming even before they are thrown. And with my cat-like reflexes, a boxer throws his best combination at me and hits nothing but air. It's like I'm Neo in the matrix.

By chin is like iron. In the rare occasion that a punch lands, even right on the button, it doesn't even register on the scale. Send as much ammunition as you can, but my chin is bulletproof. It's like I'm wearing a Kevlar chinstrap. But still, Torry Logan demands to fight me.

But I know why. He knows this is the only fight that can bring him the kind of exposure that he has been after for his entire career. He knows this is the only fight that can silence his critics who have for years accused him of avoiding me. He knows this is the only fight that can bring him the kind of payday he's been dreaming about. Shyt, after this fight, he'll damn near have enough to retire on. In fact, I'm going to hit him so hard, that is exactly what he'll want to do. Retire.

-- desmond h.

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