How all it takes, is a sensory input, to take you, right back, to that place, that you once wish you could, belong to, but never fitted into as a child…translated…
The moment that scent had, made its way into, my nostrils, I'd started, looking around me, for the source.
When I was in the elementary school years, I'd thought, that someone who knew Kung-Fu was, too amazing, which was why I'd signed up for the Tae-Kwon Do club. After I was given a suit, learned the skills, advancing through the levels, and although each level was harder than, the last, I'd still, loved and looked forward to Wednesday afternoons.
After the tests of our skills, the coach told us, if we were interested in continuing training, we go practice the fighting skills in the dojo he'd owned, there are the more complete sets of equipment, with the older young adults who will train us, to make us, better.
The streetlamps started lighting up on the small alley, there's, that unique scent out of the basement, with the various smell of sweats, body odor, and the scent, unique to an old basement, I'd not disliked it, just felt it was, unique, that it'd, left this, deep, impression in me. And yet, as the time passed, I simply, couldn't get, into the groups with the other pupils, from before, none of my friends worked out there, and I was the one left out, of the trainings. And, the two, three class periods per week was nowhere near enough, I'd not, gotten enough abilities to fight back the mocking of the other pupils, and, going to that dojo became, an enormous source of, pressure to me.
a place like, this...with the worn out floors, and the pale light...photo from online
And the dressing room was, also, filled up with that same smell. The stacks of things, the icy cold floor tiles, the barely working light fixtures, I'd looked at my self in the mirror, not filled with the fighting spirits at all, just felt my stomach turning, that there's something in my chest, not opening up.
Into the middle school years, this feeling, it'd, gotten worse and worse, and in the end, I'd used the excuses of keeping up with my studies, to drop out of the karate classes.
I'd looked around, and found, that the familiar scent was from a gym located in the, basement. I'd once longed to be a hero, but this scent was a constant reminder, that I'd, run to escape like a beaten down, animal.
So, it's the mental barrier that you still, quite, get across in this, because of the childhood feelings of being, singled out, the one left alone, that you'd, carried to your adulthood, and, the smell of sweat, the muffled up air of the gym, it took you, right back, to that, feeling of isolation you'd felt as a child, in your, karate class.
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