Today
The show went well.
Everything else did not.
**Car problems.
**Wind problems.
**Dumb moments problems.
Also, I sat with Heather H and Christina L today; we talked about field hockey.
Apparently, the coach liked to talk bad about us this year, saying we were lazy and didn't want to work for anything.
FUCK YOU, YOU TWO-FACED, WASHED-UP BITCH.
Last year at the banquet she pointed out that I was one of the hardest workers on the team. I did everything she asked, with enthusiasm and without bitching and right away and as best as I could. I went from running at the back of the line to keeping up with the girls in front. I never complained. I didn't say anything when I (and Heather and Christina) didn't get varsity letters because we hadn't played in enough varsity games because she didn't put us in. I worked my fucking ASS off for that team, and I wasn't great at stickwork and I didn't have many friends on the team and it sure as hell wasn't easy or good for my self-esteem AND I chose it over other things I could have been doing which would have been more beneficial, easier, and more suited to my interests and my social comfort levels.
So you're gonna badmouth me because I chose work and drama and grades my senior year over something that made me feel fat, ugly, unaccepted, untalented and useless? (Or because you can't pull together a team?)
I'm sorry we didn't win enough. I'm sorry if we didn't try hard enough. We. You know, the team. That should be one cohesive unit. But since you can't make them work like one, and since you like to talk about people when they're not there, I guess I'll follow suit and single myself out: *I* didn't complain about not being in the games enough, because *I* knew that *we* had a better chance if the more-skilled girls were in instead. *I* stayed out of fights with the other girls, even if things they said made *me* bawl *my* eyes out once I got home. *I* did the best *I* could, ONE HUNDRED FUCKING PERCENT OF *MY* TIME, which by the way was a HELL OF A LOT OF TIME, especially since *I* now know that it wasn't just most of the team that was cruel, it was also the fucking "leader."
Fuck you, "Coach" Roberta Cordeira. *I* was an extremely dedicated, hard-working, TEAM player.
It's too fucking bad that *you're* not. Because if you were, it might actually do the team some good; apparently, it didn't matter how fucking hard *I* tried.
It didn't fucking matter at all.
Everything else did not.
**Car problems.
**Wind problems.
**Dumb moments problems.
Also, I sat with Heather H and Christina L today; we talked about field hockey.
Apparently, the coach liked to talk bad about us this year, saying we were lazy and didn't want to work for anything.
FUCK YOU, YOU TWO-FACED, WASHED-UP BITCH.
Last year at the banquet she pointed out that I was one of the hardest workers on the team. I did everything she asked, with enthusiasm and without bitching and right away and as best as I could. I went from running at the back of the line to keeping up with the girls in front. I never complained. I didn't say anything when I (and Heather and Christina) didn't get varsity letters because we hadn't played in enough varsity games because she didn't put us in. I worked my fucking ASS off for that team, and I wasn't great at stickwork and I didn't have many friends on the team and it sure as hell wasn't easy or good for my self-esteem AND I chose it over other things I could have been doing which would have been more beneficial, easier, and more suited to my interests and my social comfort levels.
So you're gonna badmouth me because I chose work and drama and grades my senior year over something that made me feel fat, ugly, unaccepted, untalented and useless? (Or because you can't pull together a team?)
I'm sorry we didn't win enough. I'm sorry if we didn't try hard enough. We. You know, the team. That should be one cohesive unit. But since you can't make them work like one, and since you like to talk about people when they're not there, I guess I'll follow suit and single myself out: *I* didn't complain about not being in the games enough, because *I* knew that *we* had a better chance if the more-skilled girls were in instead. *I* stayed out of fights with the other girls, even if things they said made *me* bawl *my* eyes out once I got home. *I* did the best *I* could, ONE HUNDRED FUCKING PERCENT OF *MY* TIME, which by the way was a HELL OF A LOT OF TIME, especially since *I* now know that it wasn't just most of the team that was cruel, it was also the fucking "leader."
Fuck you, "Coach" Roberta Cordeira. *I* was an extremely dedicated, hard-working, TEAM player.
It's too fucking bad that *you're* not. Because if you were, it might actually do the team some good; apparently, it didn't matter how fucking hard *I* tried.
It didn't fucking matter at all.