Бойцовский клуб

           Youaren’taliveanywherelikeyou’realiveatfightclub. Whenit’syouandoneotherguyunderthatonelightinthemiddleofallthosewatching. Fightclubisn’taboutwinningorlosingfights. Fightclubisn’taboutwords. Youseeaguycometofightclubforthefirsttime,andhisassisaloafofwhitebread. Youseethissameguyheresixmonthslater,andhelookscarvedoutofwood. Thisguytrustshimselftohandleanything. There’sgruntingandnoiseatfightclublikeatthegym,butfightclubisn’taboutlookinggood. There’shystericalshoutingintongueslikeatchurch,andwhenyouwakeupSundayafternoonyoufeelsaved. 

           Aftermylastfight,theguywhofoughtmemoppedthefloorwhileIcalledmyinsurancetopre-approveavisittotheemergencyroom. Atthehospital,TylertellsthemIfelldown. 

           Sometimes,Tylerspeaksforme. 

           Ididthistomyself. 

           Outside,thesunwascomingup. 

           Youdon’ttalkaboutfightclubbecauseexceptforfivehoursfromtwountilsevenonSundaymorning,fightclubdoesn’texist. 

           Whenweinventedfightclub,TylerandI,neitherofushadeverbeeninafightbefore. Ifyou’veneverbeeninafight,youwonder. Aboutgettinghurt,aboutwhatyou’recapableofdoingagainstanotherman. IwasthefirstguyTylereverfeltsafeenoughtoask,andwewerebothdrunkinabarwherenoonewouldcaresoTylersaid, "Iwantyoutodomeafavor. Iwantyoutohitmeashardasyoucan." 

           Ididn’twantto,butTylerexplaineditall,aboutnotwantingtodiewithoutanyscars,aboutbeingtiredofwatchingonlyprofessionalsfight,andwantingtoknowmoreabouthimself.