Soccer: the Symbolism of my Childhood

At this point it comes down to choosing between soccer/health and debate/model UN/robotics/oboe. Which road shall I travel down?

I used to love soccer. However, after all this competitiveness, I'm not sure anymore. I used to find joy in playing but now. . . what do I find? I find worry and stress that plagues my thoughts before, during, and after practice. I find wounds, sores, and muscle strains all over my body. It just makes me question: how long will it take before I completely lose the face of soccer? I'm not sure how much longer I have. Sometimes, fleeting sporadic moments of joy come back to comfort me. But they're becoming increasingly scarce. Maybe I should just take a break this year, play recreationally, and then get my game back for sophomore year.

There's just a bit of doubt though. What if I get used to this no-soccer lifestyle? What if I get too attached to some other activity? What if when I come back I'll be shunned by all my soccer friends for not being with them freshmen year (if I even come back)? What if I never find my footing again and just give up soccer altogether?

It used to be my dream to play soccer in college alongside my extracurriculars. It is still there–– just like a wisp of fancifulness existing in the back of my mind. But that part of me is fading and frankly, it's scaring me. Soccer was my one connection to the younger me. And losing that, it's like losing a part of me.

I stare at my face in the mirror. Who am I? I note the dark circles under my eyes. I follow that little wrinkle of worry on my forehead. I stare down the cut I recently received at soccer tryouts. I look down to a picture of my younger self: worry-free, innocent, gleeful. She's full of potential–– ready to show the world what she's here for. I look back at myself and desperately try to find some sort of a resemblance. It's hard. I almost didn't find any. . . until I looked myself square in the eyes. There, you can still spot a little fire of determination. It is, again, faint but nonetheless still there.

So that'll do for now. That little flame of determination isn't much but it's enough to keep me going. With only just a matter of time, I'll find my footing again. I'll find my kick again. I'll find my way back home. It'll just take a little while longer.