I'm almost getting used to this schedule of 1. get hurt 2. don't play soccer.

My knee was HEALED. It was almost perfect....then I get kicked in the middle of a game and have to depend on a substitute coach to help me walk off the field. Whatever. At least I could walk.

There's not a ton of pain, but it's swollen enough that I'm limping and it's not completely bending.

I HATE not being able to play soccer, this is the game I've put EVERYTHING into. I barely have a social life during the year, and I don't regret it one bit. I would suck at life, I would probably be much less mature and a complete whore, not to mention very shallow, if it weren't for soccer.

I didn't go to school today, putting off a ton of stuff I had to do and losing ten extra credit points in tech ed. I watched Sabrina the Teenage Witch and What Not to Wear.

I hate the fact that I can't give up on anything sometimes. I won't give up on my friendships, my enemies, my obsession with a guy that will never like me back, and I can't give up on the sport I love. Does it seem rational that when someone asks what I live for, the first thing I think of isn't my friends, my sister, myself, or music, it's soccer.

Why do I even love it that much? I ask myself that and then I remember how it FEELS, being on the field, on my toes, defending. Slide-tackling. Faking. Dribbling. Shooting. Containing someone until they pass the ball right into me and I pass it up and into the middle to 'Manda, run up past her into space, get the ball passed to me and then I dribble into the corner and cross into the box. Steph gets it and finishes RIGHT in the corner of the goal. We all cheer. I scream. Even outwitting a teacher doesn't feel that good, or even as good as when Andy told us "This is it. This is what we've been waiting for." and we all put out hands in the middle.

"Ts ts ts ts ts ts..." We say, a chant "Biscuit" made up back when they first started, before I joined.
"One, two, three" In his Scottish accent.
"IMPACT"