Anias Moore
Never as it seems
The heart in my chest is racing faster than formula one cars. I still cannot believe I’m at basketball practice today with an injured ankle running drills as if I’m running for my life. I feel very weak in the knees and hunched over trying to catch my breath without causing too much trouble. Working through the pain because I refuse to deal with my crippling inadequacy issues, I glance over to see one our managers looking at my teammates and me as she is cheering us on. Although with me it was more than a glance. With our eyes, locked, I could see the sympathy in her eyes mixed with low levels of passion.
I snap back to reality and disregard the awkward exchange and continue to focus on practice, but in the back
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Since that extraordinary day basketball practice, we’ve been repeating the same process of chilling together while waiting in the snow just enjoying each other’s company before we head home. I can feel that both of us are slowly getting more comfortable with each other and closer to each other in every way conceivable. As we reach the end of winter and basketball season, the after-practice snowfall nights seem to lessen and then cease. However, that doesn’t stop her from wanting to talk to me. To be cliché, the intense, fiery romantic passion caused the winter to die and bring life into our spring fling. At least that is what I …show more content…
I barely talked to her and let alone looked at her. I refused to let her childish antics ruin the night even more. It’s midnight now, prom is over and we leave with our friends to wait outside for our parents. Handing her my jacket, she smiles thanking me for putting up with her bullshit. I shrug it off because she is human and we all have our off day. I can see she’s feeling much better as a smile develops and a laugh comes out repeatedly. I ask “Are we going to be alright?” She kisses me and whispers “Yes, it’s a sure thing.”
Throughout the weekend I give myself several unbearable migraines by overthinking what she meant by that phrase. They last until the following Monday when I can finally seize the opportunity to interrogate her at school, but I never got the chance. Before I could even attempt any formal greeting, she shut me down with no remorse. She breaks up with me with ease cackling while she murders my heart and soul. Feeling lost and confused the only thing I could ask was “Why? What did I do? Where did I go wrong?” I never got an answer. All she gave me was a hole in my chest and a hole in my
To make it even harder to focus, we could hear the music of another guard’s performance throughout warmup. I encouraged my team to stay focus on how we want to perform. As we prepared to perform, several girls began crying and hugging as if we were already done. I talked to each girl I passed and told them that it was time to focus and to show this crowd how good we are. That performance was the perfect ending to the season; it was everything we had worked for. However, we weren’t done yet; we still had to fold our floor, put away our flags, and get ready for the awards ceremony. On our way to put away our equipment, one of my girls started crying and apologizing for a mistake she had made, afraid that she compromised the show. I told her immediately that whatever score we made, we earned it as a team. I comforted her with my own struggles of perfectionism and feelings of inadequacy, but those feelings don’t necessarily reflect our
Catherine Moore was born on October 22, 1752 and grew up with 10 siblings. She lived with her family in Piedmont, South Carolina until she married Andrew Barry at age 15. During the Revolution, she was an important part of warning people of the British attack during the battle of Cowpens in 1781. Her extensive knowledge of the area helped her navigate quickly through the Indian Trails to notify the colonial military forces of the approaching army. With that knowledge, both she and the general set a trap for the British army. After the trap was a success, General Cornwallis of the British army retreated right into the hands of George Washington in Yorktown, Virginia. Catherine was soon named the heroine of Cowpens.
Magdalena Yesil, I liked how she always gave her best. She wasn’t just learning she made sure to gain a lifelong learning. The lifelong learning gained opened the doors of success. I do not know if she was where she wanted to be, but I am pretty sure that she achieved everything that she wanted in life. One thing that was interesting was how she took every job. I like to think that her jobs were her steppingstones jobs, to reach her star. She did not stay long at each job but she stayed enough time in every job that she development. Every job gave her tools, to start the next one. Without the knowledge that each job gave her, I do not know if she had been able to do what she did. When something did not like her she changed it, and is what
It was my final moments as a Chelsea High School cheerleader. My final banquet had quickly approached. It was then that I realized I was not ready for the season to be over. I stood in front of my friends, fellow cheerleaders, and their families as they watched and waited for me to recite my last words as the season came to an end. It took hours for me to write about what my teammates and my coaches meant to me. I did not want to sound too nostalgic since I’m not the emotional type, but I also did not want to come across as indifferent. It was a difficult task but I knew I could accomplish it.
Her particularly favorite sport was basketball. She remembers, “We don’t play like you do now. It was three on three. You either played offense or defense. I was defense. I was good, very scrappy,” Connie describes. Now-a-days she enjoys yelling at referees from the stands and giving her two cents on coaches. She has even gotten in a few fights with opposing teams’ parents in the stands. Even with her quirks, Connie Sallquist may seem like an average midwestern, sports-loving woman, but she is far from it. Facing odds that no one thought she could defeat, she proceeded to prove everyone wrong. And unlike most patients, Connie was able to walk out of hospice alive and healthy. She is a true miracle. While her life may not be back to the normal it was a year and a half ago, she’s aspired to a living condition that didn’t seem possible. Connie is loved by everyone she meets. All of her granddaughters friends refer to her as grandma. “Everyone calls me Grandma Connie. I’m everyone’s grandma,” Connie explains. Last year when her granddaughter’s volleyball team found out about Connie’s condition, the entire team donated money towards a bouquet a flowers and a card to send to Connie’s room. A few weeks later, Connie was able to attend her first volleyball game of the season. After the game, every player on the volleyball team came up and talked to her. She knew each and everyone of them, but each of them knew
The gym is full of people; the stands are so full that they overflow onto the edge of the court and out the doorway. The shrieks and screeches cry out from the crowd’s cheers. The ball crashes through the net, as they jump popcorn flies. The home team hit a three-point shot; they are winning with only a few seconds left. In these few seconds, the coach looks around. He realizes why he does what he does. At this point, none of the labor, time, and effort matters. The only thing that matters is the win, seeing his team succeed; watching a team grow is unlike any other feeling. In order to understand that feeling, one first has to appreciate the game: the rules and regulations, the legends that have played and coached, the development of the game,
Continuously forfeiting my ability to play baseball year after year was torture; however, the surplus of time gave me moments to reflect. After submitting myself to the worst pain of my life, my initial reaction was naive and eager: I was ready to get back out on the field and compete. In retrospect, that's probably why I'm writing this paper on my “Favorite Mistake”, but I digress. As I continued my infliction of self-torture, I matured, much like one should after handling the same situation for so long. Months on end of physical therapy and healing led me down a path of uncertainty - an uncertainty that I had never felt. After my third injury, a torn UCL, I began to question: “Why do I
It all started the first week of grade 10. I was walking to math class and i met up with a few of my lunch crew friends. I noticed my friend Ashlea talking to Erin Berring. Erin was an attractive, smart and fashonable girl. I always had a thing for smarties. In school she had straight A's, and was also the leader of the female wrestling team. I felt a little up on myself that day for some reason. I figured there was no better time then the present to chat it up a little. The conversation went quite well, which was different from what I expected. She even asked for my number so we could continue our talk later that night. "Why would she be interested in me?," I said to myself. After all, she seemed way out of my league.
For her privacy, I'll refer to her as Rin. I was happy for the first few months, but the relationship became suffocating later on. Rin wanted my undivided attention at all times of the day. In addition, Rin had severe anxiety. My love for Rin slowly died and obligation took its place. I felt obliged to stay with her. It's nauseating that I felt this way, but what else could I do? I thought that I had to stay with Rin to keep her safe from herself. As a result, I stayed with her, not as a lover, but a caretaker. One evening with friends, Rin demanded we leave, for Rin didn't like that she had to share me. I couldn't deal with her distancing me from friends anymore. I called Rin and cut all ties between us and our mutual friends. I gave her neither chance for dialogue nor reprisal, just like Paul Neruda. In hindsight, I didn't love her. Because I am a loser who has no chance in love, I was more in love with the idea of a girlfriend. As a result, I didn't love Rin, I loved my girlfriend. If I had truly had feelings for Rin, I would've resolved my problems through dialogue, not by running away like a
As time went on our relationship began to crack a lot. We were always arguing about something that wasn’t serious. At this point, I started to see a change in myself. I became more bossy and dominating. It was like I was trying to take control over her. An example of this is when she and I got into a major argument. I had begun cursing her out and got real aggressive. Then I tried to belittle her. I told her she was broke and would always need me. I told her she was nothing without me. After the major argument, we both apologized for our inputs in the fight. Even though we were back on good terms I still made things hard. I wanted her to know that I “wore the pants” in our relationship. So I gave her rules and guidelines I wanted her to follow. One of the rules was that she had to inform me that she was going to hanging out with
This relationship took place in my senior year of high school and after some time after graduation. I was introduce to this girl that my close friend had set me up with. We were both ‘the shy at first but crazy after getting to know me’ type. I had no real intentions of being in a real relationship, especially, not with her cause she lived in a different state. But for the time she was the only fun to talk to. I’m not much of a talker before or now even. But to this girl we could talk the stupidest things and still have good
It was my first week of my freshman year in college. Normally, you want to survive the first week by going to school events and meeting new people. Being the first Saturday night of the school year my new friend and I decided to go to a party in another dorm on campus. Both of us didn’t know what to expect at a college party, so we dressed up and tried to look our best. As I put my black mascara on I knew that this would be a fun night. My friend Jessica knew one of the guys that would be at this gathering because he lived in the same town that she was from. Finally, we leave our dorms and head out to our first college party. We arrived at the party and started to play cards. As the night progressed, poker was getting a little boring and staying in that dorm room wasn’t too much fun either. Abruptly, one of the guys said we should go to a freshman dorm. Everyone grabbed their belongings and headed to central campus. As we walked to central campus many of the boys were whispering about how they were going to cause a ruckus. No one was a resident of this hall, so we had to ask someone who was outside to let us in.
As I walked onto the volleyball court, I noticed people were screaming and cheering all around me. They were all around me, and yet they all sounded strangely distant. I was nervous. I was worried that we might lose, but worst of all, I was worried that I might end up letting my teammates down. Negative thoughts continued filled my head and I drew closer and closer to my position. Once again, I found myself asking whether or not I truly belonged on this team. Now, this certainly was not the first time I questioned my place on the team, but little did I know that it would be the last.
It was the start of summer 2002, and the Mid America Youth Basketball (MAYB) national tournament was taking place in Andover, Kansas. Along with the rest of the team, I was excited to play some basketball for the first time since the middle school basketball season was over. Our team, Carlon Oil, had been together and played every summer for the last four years. We were a really good team, with an overall record of 65-4 over those four years and were hoping to continue our legacy. Lonnie Lollar, our coach for the summer, was also the coach of our high school basketball team. I had a history of groin injuries, and every summer it seemed that I would have to sit out at least a game on the bench icing my groin. But this summer was different, and I along with everyone in the gym wouldn't have expected my summer to end with a injury such as a broken leg.
I wonder what happened between the two of us? Did I not satisfy her? Did she become bored with me? Or worse yet, did I make her angry? Actually, upon reflection, I don’t think it was any of those things. I think she just grew up. As she got older, she would come to me less and less. She outgrew me and all that I could give her. ...