So, this is great. I sprained my right ankle, my GOOD ANKLE, in the first game of the season.
[******** MY LIFE.
Dammit, it hurts. We went to the hospital = no broken bones.
Now I have to hobble along on my left ankle. My right one pulses in pain and I try to ignore how purple and ugly it's getting, and my left is screaming for me to GET OFF IT.
My dad had to throw me over his shoulder and carry me up the stairs when I got home. I never realized how different the world looked from up there.
But then nothing can ever get brighter after I've had to wait in the hospital for three hours just for them to tell me that nothing was broken, and so then MegaBitch and dad got in a fight. And just my luck, my shoe wouldn't even fit on my foot so I couldn't leave.
Really? REALLY?
SOMEONE JUST SMITE ME NOW. ********. MY. LIFE.
And the best part is that if I'm able to go to Jordan's party, people are going to laugh at me when I butt-slide up that stairs. rolleyes
and I'm really scared because I don't know if I've just ******** up another season of soccer or maybe the rest of my life.
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ASK YOURSELF in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity..." - Rainer Maria Rilke
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