The absolute best thing about playing a sport is that one breath. That one deep breath you take right before your game, race, competition begins when your body transforms all it’s fears, nerves, and uneasiness into total focus. That breath that, upon exhaling, your entire body gets chills and you know you are ready. You know that the hundreds of hours of work you put into preparing for this moment are all worth it. Everything gets quiet, and the only thing that exists in the world is you. You inhale….1….2….3…….4…….. “Go”
My life sucks, let me explain. First of all, I have this uproariously cheap boss. Like, would sell your fucking soul for a nickel cheap. I’m not exaggerating; this asshole has literally stuck his entire fucking hand down a drain to get to a dime. It’s unruly. Not to mention my shit of a schedule. Would you believe that I have literally worked through entire nights before? For minimum fucking wage. My only other coworker, yeah you read that correctly ONLY OTHER, treats me like shit every time I come in. Don’t get me wrong, I attempt enthusiasm. I come in ready to go every day with a damn smile on my face and I am treated like garbage. He scoffs at every attempt for friendliness I present and manages to get away with blatantly ignoring the customers. It gets worse too. This asshole is my fucking neighbor. After a lengthy stint at work I go home and just try to have a good time. But no, this dick is constantly yelling out his window at me. It’s nonsensical. My best friend is a moron. Like, forgets-where-he-lives, nail-a-board-to-his-own-hand stupid. We get along great usually. We enjoy the same sports and most of the time we can just dick around together, which is fun enough, but occasionally I desire just an ounce of intelligence. In contrast, my other friend is a fucking brainy know-it-all. She moved into town a little bit more recently than the rest of us and thinks she just knows everything about anything. Sure, she’s a pretty good scientist but she talks to me like I’m an idiot. Even when I go to the gym I get shown up. There’s this one beef head who picks on me all the time. Sure, he can lift a lot. Whopty-fucking-do. All the girls love him because he “lifeguards”. Like that’s even a real job. Honestly, the worst part of everything is just daily personal life. I have to get my pants specially tailored into a square and I’ve spent my entire life living in a pineapple.
Swimming behind someone doing breaststroke