It's 9:33 on a Sunday night...

I seriously need a hobby. Well other than soccer, reading, writing, soccer,video games, soccer, reading, potatoes, writing, soccer, pie and soccer. (Like I said I need a hobby.)

I played soccer today, imagine that! It was like an open shoot deal, and as we warmed up, I find my self thinking, "Why, oh, why, do I beat my self up so much after I mess up during a game, or practice or scrimage?"

It's not like I sit and punch myself yelling "You peice of crap! You are nothing better than a sea turtle playing goalie!"

No, It's all in this messed up brain of mine. Stupid, stupid brain. I sit and think. "HOW CAN YOU MISS THAT!??? A two year old could!, COME ON! that kick was horrible!"

It's like a record repeating over and over and over! The sad thing is; it makes me play better. It truly does, I get so mad over these petty mistakes that anyone can make, so I play 50x harder the next time round. It is so sick. There has been games where I come home, and I won't talk to anyone, because I am so embarrassed at how horrible I did.

And people say I'm good at Goalie. I only half belive them.

I am sitting at my broken computer chair, with one small light and a montior on in this dark abyss I call a basement. I am going over today's events, planning tomorrows and the 3 things I think of are:

3: I need a hobby.

2: Is reading one book a day a bad thing?

1: Pie sounds really good right now

0: I will never make starting varsity goalie.

The End

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