36,500 Words.

Why did I go out, in eighth grade, for wrestling?
I have no idea. I don't think I was gay,
and I have no patience for such rough-house grab-ass tomfoolery.
I guess it was about being tough, or trying desperately.

I was pretty good, overall; not very good or great.
Most of my matches were in practice against my friends,
where it was just a glammed-up version of sibling play.
Before actual matches, that pressure intensified. I very often barfed.

The best time was running laps around the deserted school,
learning to push my body, feeling like "I'm growing up."