Dear Diary, my father woke me up very early, he told me that the veterinarian shall come and to show him the dog. I flung myself out of bed because I was so hungry and I quickly stirred several plates of ‘Čokolino’ (chocolate cereal flakes), drank protein and Dianabol and I’ve given myself 20 units of insulin. I turned on the TV and watched the stupid American series; I was not able to look at this crap a minute longer, so I went to the bathroom to look at my pumped – up body. I admired my beautiful figure and imagined how I would be massive at the end of a current steroid cycle.
I heard the bell, it was a veterinarian. We went to see the dog. For a moment I thought he was dead, the poor animal was lying on the ground, breathing heavily and dog’s eyes were white. The veterinarian asked me what has happened to him, and I told him that I beaten up a dog with my leg and then it was F. who gave him the shock and then HGH. The vet was very angry and began to lecture me on how to treat the poor animal but I told him that I was not guilty because it was well known that anabolic sometimes encourage aggression and that the dog is accidentally has become a collateral victim.
I asked him why he was not better of HGH that had been given to him. The veterinarian said that the HGH worked differently in human body than in dogs and that it did it to him even more harm. I thought, my God what a fool! HGH cannot be harmful to anybody; it is the best product in the world! Probably the dog was sick of something else. I went home to eat something because my sugar has dropped and veterinarian exhausted me with his stupidity. I have eaten six donuts and drank two yogurts and of course, looked myself at the mirror.
I went for coffee with the colleagues from the University. I once studied, but I had to give up because I could not learn regularly and train hard. As soon as I entered the café I noticed that all of them were enthusiastic about my brilliant form; some women may have even imagined a sexual intercourse with me!
I sat down at the table with the old team; there were T.L. and his girlfriend P.J., and others. They asked me why I was so big, and I told them that I have sailed the sea of anabolics and that I would be even bigger and more pumped – up. Then L. started to talk about macrobiotics. Oh, how I hate that Chinese shit; I wished I could go to the toilet. He told me that my lifestyle was not healthy so I had to stay and explained to him. I told him that the best invention was of testosterone doses, because during a short period of time you would be able to reach the musculature level and become a beast in every sense of the world: physical, psychological, and most of all, to look like a real man, not a lemur like him.
During the conversation his girlfriend pop in and told me she disgusted pumped – up men. Oh, baby how you lied to me! I remember when I brushed her with my biceps while we were riding in “stojadin“, and later he praised my muscles. There is no woman who does not like pumped – up men; it’s impossible not to love muscles, nonsense!
I was no longer able to listen that crap and I told them to fuck off. I‘ve sent L. a dangerous glance and went to lunch. I’ve eaten a heap of paste, gave myself 10 units of HGH and drank 5 Dianabols. Later I lie down in a room and read the new issue of ‘musculo’. Suddenly F. rushed in; he was all visibly upset with his hands shaking. I gave him a chocolate bar, but he said that we must urgently go to practice because he had taken 50 mg of Halotestin. We sat in ‘stojadin’, but I noticed that the passenger seat was missing; he told me that yesterday he and A.K. had gone to mr. D. to buy anabolics. F. drove abnormally and has broken several headlights until we came to the gym; he rushed into the hall and began to twitch all devices in a row. I managed to calm him down, and at the end of training he had a few ‘Normabels’.
After I went home, I’ve eaten a bunch of rice, I drunk proteins shake and cooked 12 eggs, and then I had gone to sleep. As soon as I woke up I looked myself at the mirror, and amused myself removing pimples from behind. I had to take my mom to her girlfriend because, of course, she doesn’t have a driving licence. As usual, during our ride in a car she thought me lessons about how I need to find a job and do something. I told her ‘Mom I do work every day; today I worked on my back, I worked on biceps yesterday, and tomorrow I shall do my legs. I am working mom, but not for the money but to gain the body mass, and it is a very hard work, you know.’ She looked deep into my eyes and thought to herself that I have gone completely insane.
I left her at her friend and went to F. to look a few films about Arnie. Later we went to eat something. F. told me that he became a poet, but not as those fagots such as Tin Ujević and the like that didn’t stop sobbing, but a poet of gym, of iron biceps and says that this is one new movement in literature that he called a ‘bicepsizam’. He recited to me a new verse that he has written today:
EVERYTHING MY HEART NEEDS,
EVERYTHING MY SOUL DESIRES,
ITS ONE SMALL DOSIS, AND ONE
PILL OF BLUE METHANE …
A beautiful verse that I typed into my cell phone. After I arrived home I looked myself at the mirror. I’ve been thinking a bit about my life and my biceps, and I finally felt peace in my soul. At last I was happy, and finally all has made sense; at last I have become a muscle mass. I drunk a
protein and then I went to sleep.