Unrequited love

Five | Brylan

'Two...three...four.' My voice maunders. Running to hit the volleyball, I only end up tripping over a rock and skidding on the rough pavement.

Immediately getting up I fall right back onto my knees. Groaning when I'm hit with an unexpected ache in my knees, I reposition myself so I'm on my ass instead. Frowning when I get a good look at them they're pretty fucked up. Nothing I'm not used to but I am bleeding. Bleeding a lot actually.

Wondering what I'm going to do I turn my head to see my bag. It's left to the side. It's too far to reach and I can't exactly crawl so unless I drag myself on my back for a couple minutes, I have to stand up. Taking a deep breath I pull myself onto my feet. Fuck fuck fuck. Man up Brylan. It's okay. Once I'm up I stagger to my duffel bag before plopping down beside it.

Most Sundays I make my way to the school courts for extra volleyball practice. They have them both indoor and outdoors. They have grounds for almost all their sports here, they don't mess around with it. It's the very reason I could never join the school team. Unless you joined as a freshman it gets harder to get in each year and I'm a Junior now. Plus having all that attention on me is a no. I'm comfortable with the club I'm in, outside of school. I've been playing since I found out the sport existed. Originally I used it as a destresser from my parents but I grew to love it.

As much as I love my parents since they're my parents the pressure they put on me is suffocating and at times I feel myself choking.

They expect nothing less than perfect and it completely destroyed my self perception. I feel like life would be better if I was smarter or cooler or as pretty as 'it girls' like Lilah. If I could live up to their expectations even for ten minutes I'd be happy.

So I started playing volleyball.

It was the one thing I was good at and the praise my parents gave me when I would bring home a medal or trophy is the only time I see them proud of me. The only time I see them like me for me and God did it feel good. I became addicted to it to the feeling and honestly I still am.

Grabbing out my bandages out of my bag I wrap both my knees. I don't want fresh cuts to be exposed or it'll get infected like last time. Once I got tangled in the volleyball net and I fell back onto my arm. I felt it as it was and went about my day, it got infected and the pain was surreal. Never again.

Limping to my car it takes me a bit since I have all my things, including my volleyball in my bag. Opening the drivers side door I reach my bag over to the passengers side and I leave it there. Sliding into the drivers seat I shut the door behind me. See Brylan, that wasn't too hard. Your knees are fine.

Fixing the braid I plaited, with aid from the rear view mirror, a few of my box braids slipped out. I actually want to take them out soon. I've had them for a while now and I miss my hair, even though the lasting hours I spent on it in the mornings were agonizing.

'What do you think Aaliyah? Should I keep them or take them out?' I flick my finger on my Caribbean dancing doll that's stuck on the surface of my dashboard. My grandma had made it for me and sent it over to the states so I could have it, it's probably one of my favourite things since it's all I have left of her. I wish we had gone back home more often so we could visit her whilst she was alive. The last time I've been back was when I was thirteen.