I Run From The Ball

Do dreams make no sound
As they die...the worst thing is knowing that I'll survive...*

That's right, I run from the ball. Picture this: pee-wee volleyball - skinny kid with spindly arms - ball larger than head - trying to pop the ball over a 50-foot net from behind a line that is a mile away. A couple of coaches were vaguely amused and tried tediously to help me get the ball over the net but it would not happen for years to come.

Though I did improve, I hated that sport. Yelling "GOT IT!" and attacking the ball was not my thing and usually ended up with me crashing into someone and both of us sent to the floor. Also, when the ball hit -- it hit hard. Hard enough that I just knew I would be again crashing to that concrete-hard, shiny wooden floor with half-an-inch of wax and that my head would gush with blood and I would be disemboweled that very moment. ...okay, a little extreme but that's what it felt like.

So I run from the ball. I've always ran...long and hard. Some say that running is sometimes actually standing up to something...saying "I won't do that or I won't live like that." The trick to the game is probably knowing the difference.

And I watched as you turned away
You don't remember, but I do
You never even tried

Don't fall away and leave me to myself
Don't fall away and leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again **

*Fuel,Hemorrhage(In My Hands), Something Like Human
**Fuel, Die Like This, Natural Selection