HELL

Who the hell is George Gattas? Does he have a death wish for me? What did I do George? I didn’t sign up for this. I don’t deserve this.
hot sweaty short of breath and a raging machine of flesh
Repetition and stress. A leader without power. That’s all this week will be bringing. Just like last. We stand in the blazing star that I seriously think is out to get me. We call him the Sun, but I have a more explicit name for him.
burning burning burning
At least the sunscreen is mostly absorbed into my skin so the slimy residue I despise so greatly is gone for the day. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s insanely hot out. August is the worst month by far.
matted hair over a pink face
I want quiet. There’s never quiet here someone has to have the spotlight. They yell from above and threaten us with words that have no punch. The students don’t listen they never listen. I want quiet for myself not for them. The screaming in my head is loud enough.
get to work do it right mad mad mad
My legs itch. Night is approaching, creeping slowly. I don’t have bug spray. What are the chances I’ll get malaria and the side effects will be immediate? I want to go home. There are black bead in my shoes from the fake green, white, and blue ground. I’m going to throw my shoes to the edge of the field.
too many hours for a wasted evening
Why am I here? How is this going to improve my life? My well-being? Just getting the show done will make everything fine. We’re close I can’t wait to finish the finally chapter in this seemingly endless book. Only three more months of this and I’ll run from this whole experience without ever looking back.
make it to the end just to prove him wrong
He hates me and he doesn’t try to act any other way so I give him the same amount of respect back. I know I look 12, but I act like I’m 30 so I should be treated like it. I’m basically an adult so at the very least I shouldn’t be talked down to. I am not a child.
patronized by a coward hiding behind his lost dreams
The cool wind sweeps in. Finally. I can handle this I can make it through the night. The week. The month. The season. I am going to be ok. Or I’ll die at some point along the way. We’ll see. By finishing this rehearsal and pretending I care I’ll be able to go home and do something that’s productive or interesting or beneficial to my well-being.
going to make it push on push forth
Everyone around has discovered that talking to me will only make things worse. My tolerance decreases strongly as soon as we’re out on this field. If you try and correct me you’ll be ignored. If you try and help me you’ll be shot down. If you compliment me you’ll be mocked. This place makes me the worst person I am and I hate every second of it.
but I won’t always be here
goodbye George Gattas Memorial Stadium
