Swing, Batter, Batter, Swing!
Putting my weight on my right foot, the foot closest to the catcher. Leaning back re-gripping my bat. I watched as that black haired pitcher powered up her pitch, rocking back and forth on her heals, taking in her glove now to her side and starting the wind-up. 'This is it,' I thought to myself, now taking the best grip on my bat, 2 balls and 2 strikes have passed by this plate and I am not letting this pitcher strike me out, or walk me! I got ready the ball was realeased, and I heard the 'ump' say "Ball Outside".
I stepped out of the batters box, and took a couple swings. I HAD to hit this one, I just had to. As the pitcher retrieved the ball she took a couple wrist snap's into her glove, also having a goal, one that would block mine. I stepped into the batters box, filling the holes in made by other players feet who have batted before me. I lined up my bat with the plate making sure if that ball went right down the middle that my bat would be determind to hit that ball right to the outfield. As I had a stare-down with the pitcher, now in my stance to hit, I thought to my self, 'Swing early, but not too early, I hate the ball, I want to kill it and send it straight to the outfield. Concentrate. Keep your eyes on the ball."
The Pressure was on me. I was sweating like crazy on the inside of my helmet. It was the bottom of the 8th inning, the bases were loaded, and there's 2 outs. The games score was 11-15, I could get us to 12 runs if I hit a single, 13 runs, if a double, 14 runs if its a triple, and 15 runs if I get a grandslam. I could tie the entire game up.I can't bunt, unless, nope Tina is not a fast runner and she is on 3rd. I have one more chance to hit that ball straight to left field, not right to the outfielder though, over there head. If I hit a grounder to 1st or 2nd chances are we lose. If I hit it to the outfield, the game could continue or we could lose. My mind was thinking as fast as a super computer.
The wind-up began, I tigtened my grip but moved my hands up on the bat. The ball came as if it were in slow motion, I could tell it would be right were I wanted it, were the ball and the meat of my bat would meet. Where the ball would somehow just bounce off my bat, just like that. As the ball was half way between the pitchers mound, and me, I started my swing the one that would send this ball to the outfield. As the ball was just crossing home plate, my bat was there to meet it, sort of like two intersecting roads, that cross eachothers paths. I heard the metal smaking onto the softball (not to mention that isn't actually to soft.) I quickly dropped my bat, running down the first baseline, hearing the crowd cheering in responce.
This was a good sign.
CHAPTER 1.
Sittting in the back seat of my Mom's blue mini van, palms sweating, I twisted my blonde hair around as she was driving me to softball try outs. 'What if I don't make it?' I thought. The night before I was almost positive I would be able to make this softball team, but now, I wasn't quite sure. Trying out for a softball leaugue an hour away from where I live was a little much, but since are school sports were cut, I'll do whatever to be able to still play softball. We wer nearing the facility where I was goin to try out at. Butterflys flew around in my stomach tickling the insides of me.
Putting my weight on my right foot, the foot closest to the catcher. Leaning back re-gripping my bat. I watched as that black haired pitcher powered up her pitch, rocking back and forth on her heals, taking in her glove now to her side and starting the wind-up. 'This is it,' I thought to myself, now taking the best grip on my bat, 2 balls and 2 strikes have passed by this plate and I am not letting this pitcher strike me out, or walk me! I got ready the ball was realeased, and I heard the 'ump' say "Ball Outside".
I stepped out of the batters box, and took a couple swings. I HAD to hit this one, I just had to. As the pitcher retrieved the ball she took a couple wrist snap's into her glove, also having a goal, one that would block mine. I stepped into the batters box, filling the holes in made by other players feet who have batted before me. I lined up my bat with the plate making sure if that ball went right down the middle that my bat would be determind to hit that ball right to the outfield. As I had a stare-down with the pitcher, now in my stance to hit, I thought to my self, 'Swing early, but not too early, I hate the ball, I want to kill it and send it straight to the outfield. Concentrate. Keep your eyes on the ball."
The Pressure was on me. I was sweating like crazy on the inside of my helmet. It was the bottom of the 8th inning, the bases were loaded, and there's 2 outs. The games score was 11-15, I could get us to 12 runs if I hit a single, 13 runs, if a double, 14 runs if its a triple, and 15 runs if I get a grandslam. I could tie the entire game up.I can't bunt, unless, nope Tina is not a fast runner and she is on 3rd. I have one more chance to hit that ball straight to left field, not right to the outfielder though, over there head. If I hit a grounder to 1st or 2nd chances are we lose. If I hit it to the outfield, the game could continue or we could lose. My mind was thinking as fast as a super computer.
The wind-up began, I tigtened my grip but moved my hands up on the bat. The ball came as if it were in slow motion, I could tell it would be right were I wanted it, were the ball and the meat of my bat would meet. Where the ball would somehow just bounce off my bat, just like that. As the ball was half way between the pitchers mound, and me, I started my swing the one that would send this ball to the outfield. As the ball was just crossing home plate, my bat was there to meet it, sort of like two intersecting roads, that cross eachothers paths. I heard the metal smaking onto the softball (not to mention that isn't actually to soft.) I quickly dropped my bat, running down the first baseline, hearing the crowd cheering in responce.
This was a good sign.
CHAPTER 1.
Sittting in the back seat of my Mom's blue mini van, palms sweating, I twisted my blonde hair around as she was driving me to softball try outs. 'What if I don't make it?' I thought. The night before I was almost positive I would be able to make this softball team, but now, I wasn't quite sure. Trying out for a softball leaugue an hour away from where I live was a little much, but since are school sports were cut, I'll do whatever to be able to still play softball. We wer nearing the facility where I was goin to try out at. Butterflys flew around in my stomach tickling the insides of me.
Hate.Disappointment.Regret.They all make up some of the worst thing in our lives...then why can't we just give it up?Give it up and just throw all our problems away?The answer is simple because this,this is reality not a fairytale or some fiction story,where the writer can just have their way over their characters like puppets.No.Not at all in reality does one have their way to control their life or the lies that people tell them.There's no stopping your troubles in life or changing the regret you've made in the past ...it's life.
such a waste, my life whole life is a fake!...but im sure ive been a thorn inside of you...that's torn at you for years. but, sometimes i can taste how bitter i've become...& its more then i can bare. sometimes i pray for someone to blow me away. just make it quick, but let it burn...so i can feel the pain thats torn at me for years. i can't be held responsable, 'cause this is all so new to me. can i...leave my pain behind?
the sercomstances of one's birth are irrelavent. its what you DO with the gift of life, that determends who you are. the pain you feel...its normal. let it go.
you think?
yes. you need to forgive and forget.
i can't...
you can.
but i can't just do nothing...
it's not nothing!
i cant just...forget.
it's hard to forgive, and its hard to forget, but it's easy to do nothing...
you're right...
the sercomstances of one's birth are irrelavent. its what you DO with the gift of life, that determends who you are. the pain you feel...its normal. let it go.
you think?
yes. you need to forgive and forget.
i can't...
you can.
but i can't just do nothing...
it's not nothing!
i cant just...forget.
it's hard to forgive, and its hard to forget, but it's easy to do nothing...
you're right...
I do not own this. I did not write it, and I do not know the author. I just really like this and wanted to share it.
Who will you be
when faced with the end;
the end of a kingdom,
the end of good men.
Will you run?
Will you hide?
Or will you hunt down evil
with a venomous pride?
Rise to the ashes,
rise to the winter sky,
rise to the calling,
make heard the battle cry.
Let it scream from the mountains
From the forest to the chapel.
Because death is a hungry mouth
and you are the apple.
So who will you be
when faced with the end?
When the vultures are circling
and the shadows descend.
Will you cower,
or will you fight?
Is your heart made of glass?
Or a pure snow white?
Who will you be
when faced with the end;
the end of a kingdom,
the end of good men.
Will you run?
Will you hide?
Or will you hunt down evil
with a venomous pride?
Rise to the ashes,
rise to the winter sky,
rise to the calling,
make heard the battle cry.
Let it scream from the mountains
From the forest to the chapel.
Because death is a hungry mouth
and you are the apple.
So who will you be
when faced with the end?
When the vultures are circling
and the shadows descend.
Will you cower,
or will you fight?
Is your heart made of glass?
Or a pure snow white?
