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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of mind I was stuck on her like glue. All because our eyes locked for what felt like a decade. I no longer cared about the pain in my ankles, the sweat dripping off my body or the extreme pounding of a drum in my chest. The good news is, mentally I was feeling quite love struck; intrigued by this strange mistress. On the other hand, physically my body was spent and the internal muscle burn was all too real. The sensation was similar to the feeling of lathering on Icyhot while receiving a relentless Indian burn. I collapse, smacking the hardwood floor with tremendous force. My teammates and the mysterious mistress came to aid immediately and scooted me to the sideline. “Are you ok sweetie?” she said. Of course, the answer should be “no” when someone just collapsed from physical strenuous activity, but I said with a suave tone, “Yeah I’m feeling much better…. Sweetie.” She smiled at me and introduced herself and we talked the rest of practice. Laughing up a storm, catching the attention of the curious spectators. “If you have time to laugh, you have time run!” yelled Coach T. I just looked at him, then put my head down. That night after practice she and we waited for our parents outside in the slow falling flurry of snow. The night was beautiful and the tension built up higher every minute as we got to know each other. Sadly, her father comes to take her home but right before she leaves I stand up, grab her hand, and say “I’ll see you tomorrow?” She smiles, looks down, and nods in agreement. Tomorrow arrives, then the day after that, then the rest of the week and the weeks that follow.
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…
hoped. When I believe our time together is going well after what can only be described as “sensational” after months of infatuation, I find out the harshest way possible that it was all façade. Fast-forward to one of the greatest memorable things about high school; Prom. I asked her in a traditional manner; bouquet of different types of roses, cliché “promposal” in the middle of the football/soccer stadium using the public announcement system to grasp everyone’s full attention within an earshot. This occurred directly after school and right before she had soccer practice and I had track practice. I did not want to change into my disgusting practice clothes so I stayed in my trusty and dapper Levi Strauss jean jacket and Adidas Originals shoes. As I see her approaching the field I grab the microphone and call her name over the public announcement system then give her directions. She jumps out of confusion and proceeded to the middle of the field. She notices me walking towards her with flowers and a grin so big you can see it from space. We met, and I simply asked her “Will you go to prom with me,” she said “yes”, obviously. It was that simple and had no true significance, the moment felt generic and it just didn’t have the feeling I was expecting. Even after I tried hard to make it unique and special as possible. The following Saturday, prom had begun, and it was the saddest, most boring event I have ever attended. There were so many factors that contributed to the terrible night. The dance floor could only fit twenty people so there was a lot of unintentional bumping and grinding. The food and drinks ran out within an hour into the dance, thus beginning an unforeseen drought. The most unfortunate factors that made my night boring was my date; my own girlfriend acted as if she was new to the concept of dating me. Every time I tried to establish physical contact I was shunned with a quick turn to the cheek. The worst was when I went in for a kiss and she risked getting whiplash rather than lock lips with me. I must have done something very wrong I think, especially if she would risk a broken neck over kissing me. The night continues, and I stop to notice her actions out of lack of interest.
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
mind. Feeling a little shaken from the experience I went to her friends to obtain some closure after school was done. Cristina, which was her best friend at the time was my only choice to find some answers. I gather what’s left of my pride and went to her without showing weakness or any other emotions. I turned myself into a rock in efforts to keep my shit together as Cristina told me the truth. We sat down on the hard, splintered bleachers and she gave me the cold harsh truth. “She was using you and cheating on you”, she said. “What the hell do you mean by that?” I replied with anger. She touches my shoulder to calm me down, looks at me in the eye saying “All she wanted this whole time was to go prom and she knew you would take her.” I could not believe what I was being told. “Well with whom did she cheat on me with?” I asked. I could tell this was hard for her to tell me, but she finally uttered the name I would have never guessed, “Tysean.” One of the few people that stuck around while growing up in Germany was the one she cheated on me with. The person I considered a good friend was nothing but a two-faced betrayer. In disbelief, I felt my heart shatter one last time and my rage and sorrow intensified. How could someone be so heartless and relentless? Feeling like an idiot that I devoted my time, effort and love to someone that had a secret dumbass agenda. I believed I knew this person as a kind, fun, beautiful, innocent, cute girl but she was the opposite. And I was foolish to fall for her tricks. I left Cristina so we could go to our separate practices. Walking away slowly into my version of pain. A couple of days had passed; I have been listening to Drake’s Take Care on repeat to help ease the pain. I had cut off my ties to her and basically any female that attempted to make any sort of contact. Since our school was so small I still saw my now ex-girlfriend while walking down the halls or in the room where I once played piano for her. There were numerous places where we made memories that now hold no meaning to either of us. During class one day, I talked to my good friend Eman; he helped by keeping me distracted by going to the gym and track practice to lift or run my pain away. We sat down and talked about the good and the bad we all have inside ourselves. He simply just said “No one is who they say they are. It is our actions that define us, not our words.” I understood that he was talking about my ex and how her actions only proved that she is truly a toxin, not the flowerchild she pretended to be. A toxin that enters your life and waits to kill you from inside, taking away your ability to trust and love and know somebody again. I obtained a false mindset that if anyone that showed a vibe of either being friendly or flirtatious I would brush it off as a trap. Soon everything and everyone became a trap. I could no longer be certain of anything because I always asked the rhetorical question, “How am I supposed to trust somebody else, if I don’t even trust myself?” I and many others believed she was with me for honest reasons, such as the goodness of her heart and the possibility that she was infatuated with me as much as I was with her. Instead, we discovered it was a façade and as soon as she got what she wanted I saw her for what she was; a pathological liar. This liar that wasted my precious time, energy, love and money and took me for granted. Showing me that somebody is never as they seem.
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.
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.
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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.
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
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
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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. ...