Tuesday, August 31, 2010

For All The Shit

For all the shit I went through, I get nothing,
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Nothing to help me learn from the past,
nothing to help me feel good.
Nothing.

For all the shit I went through, nothing changed.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Shit still fell on my head,
shit still happened.

For all the shit I went through, I felt like it was unfair.
Unfair that I kept getting haunted by my past,
unfair that I can't let go no matter how hard I try.
Unfair, I think.

For all the shit I went through, I realise I probably deserved it.
Deserved what I got for quitting rugby,
deserved what I got for wasting four years of my life ruining my brain,
deserved what I got for not being a good son.
I deserved it, and I dont like it.

Quitting rugby was a mistake.
The finals in '08 still replays in my mind every two days or so.
Oh, how different the outcome could have been,
how different our reactions would have been,
how different the system mindsets would have been,
had I played.
Had I worked that little bit harder in training.
Had I not lost the ball to someone in what was to be my final touch of a rugby ball in training.
Had I just taken the shit from my coach like a man and not collapse when it mattered.
It still haunts me, I cant get over it.
Maybe someday, I can play against my old coachs' team.
And beat them.
And beat him.
Beat the shit out of him to make him see what he missed,
and what I let go to waste.
And maybe finally get over this and move on with life.

Dozing off in RI was a mistake.
Not using one's full mental capacity for some time reduces its overall mental capacity.
Imagine what four years can do.
Imagine what might be had I not let my mind rot.
I wouldn't be in this shit.
I shouldn't have had to go through the shit,
coming out smelling horrible.

Being a bad son was and is still a mistake I make.
I don't like talking about it.
But I wish I had enough self control not to lose my temper so easily.

For all the shit I went throught,
one would imagine me coming out a stronger person.
Instead, I come out smelling like, you guessed it, shit.
FML.


Im sorry, just to illustrate what I meant in that poem-which-wasn't-meant-to-be, I shall tell you what I did. I failed every test in the run up to the prelims. I had yet another nightmare about the rugby finals last night. I ripped my uniform shirt because I got too angry at my mum, and got so rude and offensive that I got disgusted by myself.

I hate not being able to let go. Of rugby.

-AING

Posted by Mat Raffles at 10:53 PM