Echo

Sonny told me, always do rock. I have a propensity towards scissors. Today I won going rock all the way. I also learned who does the same. If I learn how to read quicker, I’ll know how and when to throw him out.

I’d heard rumors that Jeremy Lin’s dad wants me to play at his gym. Saw him at the Warriors charity game. He asked me to come play. Sunday night.

Okay.

Black knight to white.

Post basketball where I had a big steal and block outs in the low post, I realize who I am is the physical player who commands and disrupts. I need to feel you, hit you, to know how you work. And I need to hit it in your face.

I almost hit a baby today. Taking shots, there was a beautiful toddler in the corner so I tried to keep an eye on her while I was shooting. But her parents where there around her, so I didn’t think of it as my responsibility. Next thing I know, I hit a shot and realize she’s standing right under the basket and it was an entire nightmare reality in the breath of a moment. Time stopped, except for the ball dropping straight at her head. Spirit lashed in panic. Body froze. Paralysis.

BOOMP. The ball dropped right next to her, impossibly close. It happens so fast she barely bat an eye.

I still can’t believe the fear of that moment didn’t make me wet my pants.

Bonnie saw, too. In that split moment. So close. Two radically different realities separated by a hair of space.

It made my knees weak, how close it was.

It’s not a literal silence I need. But it ends up being a resounding one.

I like a man to have discipline.

And now it’s raining. Good job, me.

I hope it rains.

Bonnie was telling me about marathoning Sex and the City and how she has a Charlotte and a Miranda. She said she saw me as a Carrie. I said I don’t want Mr. Big. I really likef Aiden. She said Carrie wouldn’t settle for anyone but her true love and she loved Mr. Big.

That makes sense. After all, TV analogies aren’t literal.

Time and reality itself have been slippery lately.

I am not in a place at all to know what I’m feeling.

I played basketball with my dad’s teammate and his son tonight. He barked at me, “You’re on top!”

And I turned around, raised my eyebrow and said, “If you want me to be.”

Someone told me, they’ve never seen a guy so unwilling to take a stand. Maybe he’s poised towards the cliff of one massive stand.

Or maybe he’ll really make himself bury it. He’s going to cry over me.

3 almonds. Half a cup of coffee. My day’s intake.

Can’t eat. Life intense. I’m handling it.

I always have a meltdown shortly before battle. It’s like athletes who throw up before a game.

Here it is. Next level shit.

Holy fuck what a day.

I was contemplating the ramifications of sending a text that said, one hug in greeting, optional hug at end of the night, no kissing.

As I was walking up, I put my shoulders back and remembered, I dictate this. No one’s touching me unless I say so. I remember Seattle. I remember, I got this.

And I did.

I don’t trust men who don’t ask follow up questions. It makes me think their interest isn’t in getting to know me.

I told him my time zone was off.

What time do you think it is?, he asked.

I felt for the numbers. 8:28 I said.

I think it’s 9 on the dot.

He checked his phone. It read 8:30.

Wow, that’s amazing, he said.

I could have sworn I saw what he’d borrowed from me in his hand. But when I asked him for it he said it was at home.

This isn’t the first time I feel he wasn’t honest. The first time was to explain why he declined an invitation to see me. This time, it was to ensure he would see me again.

So tired today. Exhausted.

Guys should know that if they give it up too early, a girl can lose interest, too.

My only rule is that you can only sit next to me on the team bus if I say it’s okay.