Poems, Stories, And Unorganized Messes

Lost It

She stared at her phone. It hurt to put those words into the text box, she knew she would regret it later,but as far as she knew, it had to be done.
Everything just went down the drain. She had been training so hard for so long, and in one quick turn of events, she gave it up. She tried too hard for too long, but the only thing her coach would say is, "You're not good enough." Oh, she felt good enough. That was her push, in many ways. At first, it pushed her down. It ground her into the dirt, spat on her, and as she tried to get up, took her hopes and threw them in the dirt again. But it was also a different kind of push. A motivation that kept her going. A song in the back of her mind that said, you are where you are, because that's where you are supposed to be. She went farther than she ever dreamed, but they still said she wasn't good enough. Then she lost it. She lost that push, that motivation, that extra burst that kept her alive. She lost it, and then she lost herself. Those who believed in her most turned away. Their dissapointment only grew into her own shame. Those few who had held her up finally let go, because they deemed her not worth the effort anymore. Only a burden of time and money, now. What about all those hours in the backyard alone, her phone tied to her stomach with old shoelaces, playing music that no one else heard, that ball bouncing at her feet, with the phrase work harder pounding through her mind? What about them? What about all those silent tears that no one knew about because she refused to let anyone know they hurt, what about those times she stood back up even though it would feel better to stay down?
But what about them? All those times she sacrificed her body because this game means more to her than the necessary basic needs of a human being, ignoring the pain and the blood seeping through her uniform because getting better meant more? What about those? She lost them. They were memories now, not symbols of hope for the future, but reminders that she failed herself and everything she stood for. Apologies could've fixed it but she decided to rehearse her pity instead. She lost it, she lost her hopes, her dreams, her motivation, everything that made her heart tick and the blood in her veins boil. She lost all those times that she sprinted faster than her legs could possibly carry her, all those times that she went out there for change and got it. And as she wrote, she cried more and more, for the fact that she lost it.