Hard times

Dude, I am angry with you. How dare you leave me?

A new season of Champs League begins today. EPL yesterday. I made an effort to join the guys for a memorial league. I roped your mom into playing as well.

Getting her to play was not hard. Teaching her will be hard, not because of who she is, but because of my lack of knowledge. I left all the important stuff undone. No research. No learning from my mistakes. My heart simply is not into it. Why? Because I miss you. How unfair. Not even a full EPL season. I cannot help but feel cheated.

Is that selfish of me? You bet. How dare you let me walk into your life, give a piece of myself to you and then leave me with scant memories and a heavy heart.

The past few months flew by in a blur. At first, I coveted all the scraps of you I had. In the space of six months, I learned about your pain, I learned about your heart, I learned about your soul.

I question myself. Doubts kill as surely as knives. Doubts taint the purest of memories and motives.

Do I think if I put you in a box and hide you away, eventually I will forget entirely? Memories comfort and hurt. I trusted you. You trusted me. How can that be?

Last year I eagerly awaited each match. I am sorry Dude. You need to be here.

Later.