I walked into my old bayou, or should I say, my battlefield where I got into my first fight. It was a long pathway behind my neighborhood to reach to the battlefield. On the way going their I saw the rock where I put my jewelry, belt buckle, and my shirt to get ready to fight.
When I got there I seen the battlefield and it was mostly the same except for the tall grass that could reach your hands. I started having some flashbacks and I know I could of at least try my hardest because I could of dodged a lot of punches he threw at me but I didn’t wanted to.
I still remembered my friend telling me this is like Oscar De La Hoya Vs. Floyd Maywheather and I guess I was maywheather because I won. Even though I won I still feel ashamed of fighting because I bleed.
What I have learned is that violence is not the answer because in the end you bleed, and get bruised. I always come here when I get bored or just want to get away from things. I used to think violence was the answer but, now I think fighting is not right.