I lost all shape last night. I wasn’t moving my feet. I was a WTA player on the cusp of a personal milestone. I was playing to the strength of my opponent. I became their puppet and they my puppeteer. I wouldn’t step back and take a deep breath and gain perspective. I wouldn’t recollect. I was too caught up in the moment, a deer in the headlights, a nerd in the same room as their crush. I possibly put myself in the way of bodily harm too, and in the pursuit of what? I lost sight of the big picture, missed the forest for the trees; I was in the throes of a goddamn disease.
Mother wakes me up at 1130. I know this because checking her claim against the time on the phone is the first thing I do. “Oh good, it’s only 7 hrs until England v Wales,” I mentally establish. A pleasant thought to start off the day. She says something about lunch and heading out but having just woken up and busy with thoughts about England v Wales, I pay no attention. I never said I was a role-model.
When I finally get off the bed, it’s 6 and 1/2 hours to kickoff. By the time I finish brushing and listening to select tracks from Kanye’s Life of Pablo, it’s 6 hours… you get the drift.
We met on G-chat. Well, me met in real life first but we didn’t really open up to each other until we hit the G-chat. And by opening up I mean, I sent her links to my favorite songs and she sent me links to her favorite songs. I preferred my songs to hers but I knew enough to say nothing more than 🙂 I was more eloquent and less dependent on emojis when holding forth on other matters and judging by the number of haha’s I received, funny too. That or she was distracted and was merely being nice. After a while me moved on to Whatsapp and this was more convenient. I could now chat with her while simultaneously watching and feverishly tweeting about sports. Then one day, she asked if I had an account on Snapchat. I said I didn’t and she sent me a sad face. I didn’t know it then but that was how the cookie crumbled. I couldn’t stay up with her and she left me behind. The perils of seeing a sixteen year old. The only place where I see her these days is on Instagram. When people ask me what I’m doing on Instagram, I say I’m only there to comment ‘Lord’ on Bendtner’s photographs, nothing more. When they persist and ask why is my account locked and why do I not let them follow me, I politely change the subject saying it isn’t worth it.
A friend I knew and an online acquaintance I’ve never met walk into a bar. They both order the bartender to send me a message each on FB messenger. I notice their messages as soon as they’re sent. It’s now been a week.
I lost all shape last night. (I was laying prone on the couch). I wasn’t moving my feet. (They were resting on the armrest of the couch). I possibly put myself in the way of bodily harm. (Left eye prone to dryness on continued extended exposure to electronic screens).