EIGHT
I go to the training field, not to actually train, oh, no, but to be supervised and watched like I’m a little kid who won’t stay in the time-out corner.
It’s humiliating and degrading and it gives me too much time with my thoughts, and these feelings that are sprouting like goddamn weeds for no good reason. I don’t have time for those right now. Every thought and my every bit of focus should be on healing, on recuperating, on getting better.
On not thinking about Jesse and me having a staring contest in my kitchen last night. On me not thinking about Jesse and me sharing our second meal together in as many days, of him bringing me that food because I made the comment that everything in my fridge just didn’t hit the high bar I had set for my culinary expectations for last night.
G
