damik's Diaryland Diary

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It's not as fun on the other side of the fence.

We went to Sam's track meet yesterday. I remember meets. Idly sitting around for what seemed like forever. Chatting with teammates and flirting with the guy you like. Warm-ups with the others in your race. The sick tight feeling in the pit of your stomach. And that simple prayer when the gun is shot off. Please God let me win.
Then...
InkabinkabottleofinkthecorkfelloutandyoustinkJackbenimbleJackbequickJackjummpedoveracandlestick.
QuicknowJackJacknowquickjumpbackoverthecandlestickonetwothreefourfivesixsevenallgoodchildrengotoheaven.
Nursery rhymes in quick succession, matching the foot fall of your run. Nothing, nothing in your head but your footfall and Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. Tears streaming down your face, but you don't even notice them. From under water a nagging voice tells you about a side ach, but you don't hear it. As you approach the finish line the roar of the crowd bursts in like the sudden rush of energy you just found to get you to the end. Then just two more races and a nap before your bus comes to take you back to school.
Sam's was the first track meet I've been to where I wasn't a participant. I was a bit hesitant to go because I don't like that nagging ever-persistent feeling of regret. I have too much anyway. But I went anyway. I adore Sam (Not in that way thankyouverymuch) and like supporting him, while hanging out with Trevor. It was there the regret, the feeling I could have done something in my life if I'd only tried. I think I am one of those people who died at 16 and I just haven't been buried yet.
When I die, I should have if only carved on my gravestone.

8:29 p.m. - 04-04-02
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