The week before the homecoming game, we found out that our starting senior libero got sick with Mononucleosis, which meant that she couldn’t participate in any physical activity. We quickly had to find our next best passer, for that next week’s big game, and I was next in line. You will never know when you will have to step up, and when chances like this will arise . You always have be prepared, otherwise you might miss your chance. When I found out that I had to libero for one of the biggest games of the season, I was dripping with drops of nerves.
Every time I failed, I became an emotional wreck because the idea of “failure” had always been foreign to me when I pursued things I cared about. With perfection as my goal, making mistakes were emotionally and mentally draining, and, it was clear, that making mistakes was inevitable. Early in my junior year, I received a 23%
I was only needed for one event and spent nearly the entire weekend as a cheerleader. At first I thought that all the training, all the pain, and all the lost sleep was for nothing. But I soon realized that wasn’t the case. Life certainly isn’t fair. I won’t always be rewarded or even recognized for my hard work.
In chapter two he says how he feels about teaching, “I had told her many, many times how much I hated this place and all I want to do was go away. I had told her I was no teacher, I hated teaching, and I was just running in place here. But she had not heard me before and I knew that no matter how loud I screamed, she would not hear me now.”(page 14 and 15, line
My First Wrestling Match There were about two weeks before my first wrestling match. After a tough practice, I went to check my weight like everyone else does, and my heart sunk as I realize that I am six pounds over my weight class. The weight class I am wrestling in is one hundred and thirteen pounds, but I weigh one hundred and nineteen. I was very nervous that my coach would find out and be displeased with me. I began to worry because being six pounds over meant that I could only eat a little bit each day, and work extra to lose all of the weight.
No matter how badly I slaved away completing assignments, they would always be subpar. Every word of criticism stung like a slap and every inadequate mark burned like a whip. Soon, the people around me realized it too. I was ridiculed and tormented for my shortcomings. Whether it be from my peers, teachers, or parents, no one would acknowledge me and I was left struggling, suffering, and alone.
A few days later, the teams met up with the coaches. There were about 10-13 people on each team, and all of mixed grades from grade 6-8. I didn't really know anyone that well, so I just sat and listened as the coach talked and congratulated all of us for making competitive. Then we started practices that week, and the skill level to me was different then I had imagined from my earlier years of playing. the drills were much harder than I was used too, and I got very confused easily for what I was supposed to do.
I was nervous since it was my first time trying to achieve a goal I really wanted. However, I was disappointed since I obviously didn’t make the team and didn’t do my absolute best. The second time after making the team I felt like I had accomplished something for the first time in my life and excitement for a new part of my life. During my first year on the team I still felt these same emotions for different reasons. I believed that even though I had made the team I wasn’t preforming to my best ability and when I was trying my hardest it still didn’t feel good enough.
I worked hard during practice and out of practice to become better and, eventually, I became more aggressive than them. My eighth-grade year, I tried out for the school’s co-ed soccer team and was confident that I would make the team. During the three hard days of try-outs, I pushed myself to improve each day and received several compliments from the coaches. On the last day, the head coach pulled me aside to tell me
All we could think about was those extra hours of sleep that the morning would bring. We were so distracted by this that it all happened so quickly. We were mauled by an enraged mob of infected, there was no other option but for all of us to split up. Thats where I got lost. Now I 'm stuck here writing in this stupid journal!
For twenty two minus eighteen years I have been retrying my first shot a college. Much to my distress and misery, I will never catch what the kids in my neighborhood coined the juice. The juice in this since is motivation, determination, drive, and bloodlust. I have come to the inhumane loss of hope, the end of a candidacy. I am on my last chance to prove to myself I am not a failure.
He was a wreck his mom was to saddened to see him like this. A few weeks later she had enough so she signed him up for a police officer job. “I don’t want to do this, I’m a failure,” he said with a disappointing look on his face. “C 'mon this a new chapter just try it out,” his mom responded. “Okay but only for a day,” he replied.
It was my last year and all I wanted to do was have fun. I stopped doing my homework and studying for all my tests, I began to worry about boys and all the fun times my friends and I would have. I got suspended and asked to get sent to a anger management school to help me focus a bit more on myself, nobody would have expected that from
Angry and bitter, I stopped volunteering and participating in additional duties. All the hard work I put in led to nothing but failure and heartbreak; the sacrifices I made, the time spent, I could never get back. I remained this way until I realized that the anger and bitterness was only dragging me down. I wasn’t myself. For someone who grew up craving success, I was fully aware of people like Michael Jordan, who was cut from his high school varsity team, and Bill Gates, a Harvard University drop out.