The Title

The title.

That was all I ever wanted.

I grew up seeking it.

I grew up training for it.

Everyone depended on that title.

I just so happened to be chosen to seek it.

This title.

The title of the king.

The king of boxing.

I had to achieve it.

Growing up in the slums, all I ever saw were beggars and those who lost their path on life.

I've seen it all.

The good.

The bad.

The poor.

The abusers.

I grew up in this wretched neighborhood filled with drug addicts and low lives.

But ever since I was a kid, I knew I would change this neighborhood forever.

My dad was a professional boxer, and he died in the ring, a champ I dare say.

But afterwards, my entire neighborhood lost its way.

We went from predators into prey.

It was pathetic.

I felt pathetic just being here.

I was not going to let my dad's hard work go to waste.

I could still taste the days of happiness like they were just yesterday, when my dad would come home a champ, and everyone would shower him with praises.

The neighborhood used to be such a happy place, filled with motivated individuals.

That is why I've been training all my life.

All these years, till now.

I am finally twenty years old.

The legal age to box in my country.

I signed up for the national tournament.

I have lots of practice.

I know I do.

So why am I so nervous?

I have a REASON.

I cannot forget that.

I must save my neighborhood.

I'm TIRED of seeing everyone fall off.

I will put my neighborhood back to the prosperous neighborhood it once was.

Months pass.

The day was near.

In fact, it was within twenty four hours.

I was laying down on my bed, trying my best to sleep.

But it just wouldn't happen.

I felt TIRED, I had trained all day for this fight the day before.

Yet, I couldn't sleep.

After hours, I fell asleep, but had to wake up two hours later to drive down to the big arena my fight was taking place.

We arrived at the arena an hour later, and I entered the locker room.

I got prepared and walked out, headed to the big stage.

I could hear the crowd screaming.

Nervous sweat dripped down my neck.

I could feel the intensity rise as I stepped into the ring.

I noticed my opponent entering from his corner.

I knew I had plenty of more fights, so this first one would have to be a walk in the park.

We both walked to the middle for the initial face off.

I looked him straight in the eyes and he looked straight in mine.

His eyes.

No.

I shook my head.

I was not going to lose focus.

Those eyes of his were terrifying.

But it didn't matter.

I was doing this for my neighborhood.

I will win this.

The match began.

I got up close and personal, throwing a couple punches here and there.

He was a good dodger, he was dodging everything.

BAM

His right fist connected with my abs, out of shock I let my guard down and looked down at his hand buried deep in my stomach.

That was my mistake.

BAM

Another punch straight to my face sent me flying to the ground.

I lay there on the ground, still, trying to make out what had just occurred.

The referee stood there showing me numbers.

I could barely see.

Everything was blurry.

I was confused.

Than it hit me, I had to get up.

I had to get up right now!

My dad, my neighborhood.

I had REASONS.

I had to get up before the ref counted to ten.

I tried.

I tried my best.

But my body was too weak.

I was too frail.

Those punches did their job.

I couldn't move.

I lay there in agony, I wanted to see the man who single handedly ended my entire purpose of training. I looked over at my opponents face one last time.

My eyes widened.

I could feel my heart racing.

A sudden adrenaline rush pumped through my veins.

My opponent.

was my fathers killer.

It was at that moment, nothing else mattered.

It seemed the referee had stopped counting.

I didn't care.

I couldn't hear a thing.

I really didn't care.

I ran over to the opponents corner.

Ran right into him head on.

I threw him on the ground.

Took my gloves off and started punching him.

BAM

" That one is for every time my dad came home injured! "

BAM

" That one is for everytime my dad lost! "

BAM

" That one is for killing my only source of motivation! "

BAM

" That one, is for killing, my father. "

I was screaming things, punching and beating him up like a maniac.

Blood on my fingers, blood everywhere.

Everything around me was choas, but I could hardly tell in the moment.

I didn't care.

Revenge, was the only thing on my mind.

Oh I got my revenge alright.

I beat him to a pulp.

As soon as I finished, I fell unconscious.

I was weak.

I awoke the next day in a dark jail cell.

I had some time to think about what I did.

I got my revenge.

And yet, nothing had changed.

My neighborhood was the same.

My father was still dead.

I still lost the fight.

I went mad.

I couldn't take it.

I started punching the walls.

I cried.

I sat in the corner and cried.

I let out screams all night long in my jail cell.

My mother came.

She came to bail me out.

We had no money.

She used up all of her savings to bail me out.

I went back home.

And cried.

I apologized to my mom, than I collapsed on my broken down bed.

I was TIRED of myself.

I had witnessed my own downfall.

I had lost my REASON.

" And that kid, is why we live in this broken down neighborhood. In the end, I was a failure, who fell into the cycle of disaster. I became what I despised most, the people in my neighborhood. " An old man told his grandchild.

" Hmmm, sorry old man, but I think you were a bit too hard on yourself! You took it upon yourself to save the neighborhood! But everyone knows that things are easier when you work together! Maybe if you asked the others for help, and you collectively worked together, supporting each other, and working towards a better future, you might have had a better chance! " The kid exclaimed.

" Hahaha, perhaps you are right young one. " The old man smiled.

Though the child was still naïve, the old man felt the kid had a better chance at saving the neighborhood than he did. He had failed in the end. The old man, had tons of regrets.

" But old gramps, I think what you did was very brave. You dedicated your entire life to winning, and because of it you lost sight of the things around you. You must have thought you were the only big dreamer. You must have thought your REASONs would carry you to a victory? But doesn't everyone have their own reasons? What if the person you lost too had a bigger reason? " The kid wondered.

The old mans eyes widened.

He never considered what his opponent might have gone through.

" One thing is for sure gramps, your opponent never gave up. You beat him to a pulp, but he still fought and won the entire tournament didn't he? You however, you gave up. "

The old man frowned, he didn't realize how badly giving up that one day would later come to affect his life.

" Well gramps, I won't let your life go to waste! Im going to become the president, and learn from your mistakes! I'll make you proud, and save this neighborhood from all the struggles it faces! I'll make you proud gramps, I promise! "

The old man laughed.

" Don't make promises you can't keep kiddo. "

Despite the old man's words, there was something that removed the doubt in his heart. The old man knew, that this child would one day save the neighborhood.

It was because of the look in the kid's eye. It was the same eyes the old man saw when he was in the boxing ring, the same eyes as his opponent.

Those eyes, the kids eyes gleamed with endless REASONS, endless possibilities, the strength to never waiver, and most importantly, the will of someone TIRED of being TIRED.

Those who are tired of being tired, eventually find endless reasons to solve whatever situation they are in. No matter what you are going through, you can push through this, you can overcome this. Don't let the feeling of being TIRED stop you, and find your endless REASONS to continue on... to victory.