Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Go Back: part 4 Today's Future

The doctor confirmed it.
I can no longer play soccer.
That phrase dones't make sense to me. I refuse to believe it.
I refuse to believe that I will never be able to siut up, jog out, and play on the field. To play on the fresh green grass, feel the wind on my back as I spriont down the field, go for the ball against my opponenet.
But I know it's true.
I'm now missing a part of me.
The doctor says I need to find other things to do. Other hobbies perhaps.
But I can't think of any. My life was soccer.
My heart has always been with soccer.
I don't want to deal with this.
I am so tired of having a constant headache for the past three months.
I shouldn't have to go throigh this.
But I guess God has a reason for everything.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29:11

"Take delight in the Lord and he will give you your hearts desires."  Psalm 37:4

Go Back: part 3 Focus on Right Now

Almost three months have past.
Everyday is a struggle, holding its own surprise--whether it be triumph or set-back.
I miss my sport more and more everyday. I laugh when I think about how I used to complain about a tough game, frustrating practice, or hard coach. At times, I hated soccer. But what I would do to get it all back!
I guess you never know how much you love something until it's gone.
Now, the doctors' words are sinking in.
Now, I have a fear of my sport.
The fear of getting hit again.
The gear of the unknown.
I've never felt fear towards soccer.
Sure, I'd get nervous. Who doesn't?
I get asked a lot, if I could go back to the moment before i got kicked, would I do it and avoid the blow?
I honestly have no answer. I don't know what I'd do.
I just need to focus on right now.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Go Back part 2: What's Wrong With Me?

I can barely read or write.
My head feels like it's been split open, glued back together, and now someone is trying to split it open again.
My words never some out right.
I can't remember what I did yesterday.
I don't remember names, dates, faces, anything.
What's wrong with me?
The doctors say it's a severe concussion. It's going to take up to a year to recover, maybe more. I'll be feeling like this for months.
And I should give up soccer forever.
I firmly told the doctors mo. I will not be ending my soccer career.
It means too much to me.
They try to explain that, if I get hit one more time, I could be paralyzed, unable to speak, or possibly dead.
And yet I still want to go back to my sport.
What's wrong with me?

Go Back part 1: The Foolish Hero

My mom has always told me before a game to never be a hero. I've always nodded and rolled my eyes at her. I've always thought," It's soccer. I'd rather protect the goal than myself.
I've been taught to sacrifice myself for the net since I was three. And I've never gotten too hurt doing that.
Except that one day.
It was a pick-up game. No refs, no uniforms, no equipment. Just a ball, two goals, and twenty-two players.
This all counted for nothing.
I was defending. I was in complete game mode.
He kicked at the ball, which was about mid-air. I managed to block it from the goal. But his kick hit, not the ball, but the left side of my head. Hard.
I was blown back. My face felt numb and I couldn't see straight.
Something was wrong. Something had happened.
I was the hero my mom told me never to be.
I was the foolish hero.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

I'm Missing You Now

I see him. I may have forgotten a lot, but I definitely can remember his face.
His blue-green eyes.
His laugh. His smile.
The feeling of his arms around me.
All those memories that I've tried to suppress pop into my mind.
I feel like crying.
I want him back.
He sees me. He waves.
He smiles his half-smile that used to mean he still loves me, even though I just said something extremely stupid.
I'm certain that this half-smile doesn't have the same meaning.
I return the smile, then walk into the brisk winter air.
I cannot look at him.
My eyes are filled with tears.
For too long, I've tried to pretend that I'd forgotten him.
That he was worthless to me.
The I didn't need him.
But now it was obvious to me that I do remember him, that he does matter to me, and that I do need him.
I bite my lip. The tears keep falling.
I long to run to him and tell him how I feel.
But even more so, I want him to feel the same for me. I let myself remember how I felt about him, about how I feel about him now.
I've spent the last year and a half trying to fill his spot in my heart with other boys.
None of the boys can do that though.
Only he can.
I try to face the truth--that he will always be my first love.
Maybe not my true love, but my first.
And who knows?
Maybe we'll get back together.
Maybe, in a few years, we'll love each other again.
And maybe my first love will turn out to be my true love.
As for right now, I think I need to live in the moment and not worry about the future of the boy I loved.
The boy who not only broke my heart, but still has my heart.

By Now

He's hurt me. Not physically, but emotionally.
By now, we should be in love, not avoiding each other.
"How many times have you used that line before?"
His words are still ringing in my ears. I see him, walking to class.
He looks up and I catch his eye. He nods. I shoot him a half-smile, while my heart breaks apart.
Why is it that whenever you're trying to get over someone they get cuter every time you see them?
By now, I should be throwing my arms around him, not getting over him.
I look back at him, at his beautiful face, now walking away.
He's hurt me, but have I hurt him?
He turns back. I see his eyes, piercing through mine.
I want to run to him, hug him, kiss him like we used to.
But I don't.
I turn back and keep walking, leaving a part of me behind.