As she sits in the bleachers looking down on the court the room stops. The game stops. Emotions hit her like the kill the team just got. Being apart of the team is half the fun. Haunting her is the bliss she had. Chasing her constantly are her old jerseys. Her once dreams, are now her nightmare. Her bliss and life is her own destruction. As she jumps and screams for the people she knows playing what she loves she holds back tears. She holds back anger. Some are unappreciative of the grueling practices, the exhausting tournaments and not being on varsity. While she quietly, dies a little in agony, craving the rush. Volleyball is her drug. The addiction is killing her but yet she smiles.
Her whole life she’s been told to find the bright side. Now she gets some joy from training, and drilling, with others like her. She may not get a uniform but she can still lace up her shoes. Missing a team, overwhelmed by the small thing. Her fill never seems to be enough.