Broken, and No Receipt

My world set sail up shit's creek about a week ago, I apologize for being behind on these blogs.  Are you guys familiar with that one passion you have where you would do absolutely anything to excel in? Well aside from writing, mine has always been baseball. Baseball was always first for me; it came before everything, even eating and sleeping.  Literally, breathing was the only thing I put before it, and that's because I knew if I put breathing on the shelf I wouldn't survive long enough to play baseball anymore.  My father, who I was extremely close with up until age 11 or so, always encouraged me to pursue the game.  He was the foundation block in developing my dreams based around baseball. However, my parents divorced and I grew angry at the world.  I hated everybody and everything, except baseball.  This hatred was what threw me into writing.  I always have such vivid images in my head, such a hatred mixed with disturbed burning emotions that being a descriptive writer comes almost naturally to me.  So now, low and behold, I have two cares in the world (baseball and writing), and it was fuck everything else.  On my own, I bust my ass for 14 solid years on and off the baseball diamond. I go through one arm surgery in high school, along with 2 years of physical therapy, and I was still able to achieve quite a few personal accolades throughout my career. I was prone to set backs. I was told they made me stronger, but no matter how hard I worked to get back to square one I always felt weaker. I hate that fucking saying. "It only makes you stronger." Last time I checked, getting your dick kicked in by life never felt good, or had benefits.  I'm bitter. I apologize. Let me get back on track.  It became like a job, a career if you would, (minus the salary) to scratch and crawl my way onto a collegiate baseball team.  However, I achieved my dream this year.  I did it, I made it, and I never felt so proud of myself. All alone, through mental and physical setbacks, I conquered what I promised myself I would - play baseball at a collegiate level.  So why am I rowing myself up shit's creek you ask?  Well, imagine throwing a ball while getting stabbed in the shoulder with an exacto knife. Yep, you guessed it. While warming up at practice one morning, I retore my labrum (which was the reason for my first surgery in high school) and my bicep muscle. This was the last straw for me. This puts me out my entire freshman season and potentially part of my sophomore season. Not to mention I'd have to work like a slave just to get back to being able to THROW a ball again, forget throwing it with velocity and control. It bumps me down the pedestal a great deal physically and it totally crushes anything I had left in me mentally. It makes it almost not worth it to me to go through it ALL again. I already missed out on so much in my life that I wanted to do because I ate, slept and dreamed baseball. I want to experience things, and being a 100% dedicated to a team of this stature really makes that difficult. I knew God didn't have this planned for me, and sometimes personal wants, no matter how hard they're striven for, can't always be obtained.  So I'm shelfing it.  It was a good run, and I will wake up everyday cursing myself in the mirror, but sometimes you just need to be realistic. Financial issues at home as well also force me to place priorities into perspective. Luckily for me, I do have a second talent and a passion. I will put writing first and foremost and work at it just as hard as I did baseball. I'm turning the page and re-painting new dreams. I'm going to do my best to try to live a "normal" life, not a repetitive robotic one. I loved the game, I always will. It just wasn't meant to be. And though I say I'm okay with that, my labrum and bicep weren't the only thing that tore that day, my heart was left in shreds. 

With that said, maybe now this Haiku will mean something to those who care to read it. I'm trying something new here and honest feedback will be taken seriously and much appreciated. I can't better myself if I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Enjoy.

 Broken, and No Receipt

Spring is here - it's time to play
    Mom will wash away
The stains hard work bring this day

Muddy cleats, dirty jerseys
    Green grass and cowhide
On the diamond I'm alive

Trekking the road to glory
    My route is scenic
Tribulations obstruct me

Dysfunctional families

    Torn shoulder muscles

It's hard to win this struggle

"I'd rather you not cut me"
    I told the doctor

With my help, you will prosper

Prosperity was a lie

    And my dreams? Shattered.

An inevitable fate