Tuesday, 4 March 2008


I'm trying to control my breathing. Without success. I've put so much into this trip: months of training, months of stealing time from my realationship, months of sleep deprivation to go to the gym, kilometers of finger tape, buckets of chalk.
I can really feel I'm going to do something serious.
Maybe there's a point at which you invest so much that everything grows bigger than you, bigger than what you put into it, and acquires its own life. It stands behind you and whispers "you better do well you fucking poser".
I'm ready to give myself.
Will it suffice?
One thing I know is that I'm climbing really bad. My feet are always light, free of wheight.
This is nice on the campusboard, but will it be funny when falling from problems?
We will see.
I'm so happy I will meet my brit friends, in UK or France it doesn't matter. I want to meet my friends, I'm going to meet my friends.

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