Sarcoma String ♡

okay so imagine that you're light, you know?

you're good at studies but bored and then one day in middle school you discover tennis and then there's something other than studying you can lose yourself in. it's tiring, it's sweaty and dirty and brutal (if you've seen tennis you know what i'm talking about) and it gives you a chance to not be refined, to not be controlled. because the very point of tennis is to lose control.

you play and you learn that you're good at it, and then you naturally claw your way up to the top and now you have an excuse to act in a way you know you shouldn't. so you take hold of the sport and never let go.

but then you graduate and everyone's telling you you need to focus on your studies to go to a good university. they're telling you you need to give everything else up. you know what distractions mean and you know that this is the end of the line for you.

so you give it up. but some part of you will always be thinking about the inherent insanity of the game, the feeling that you never can feel again.

the moment you lose yourself is when you give up tennis. it's not the sport, not really---it goes so much deeper than that but you don't know how to explain it. you're back to the boredom you thought you could escape from three years ago.

so your racket collects dust in your closet. until one day you discover something else---something more sinister, something as interesting---up and recognise it as a game, a player that matches you. until one day that player comes along, and that is the last and final time you will pick your racket up.

all that. just for one day to move countries and never touch that racket again. that racket, full of dreams and sweat, now only speaks nostalgia.

Image Source: Pinterest

"Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder."