Dear Patch Of Grass

3 04 2008

Dear Patch Of Grass —

Hey, what’s up? It’s been a while. How’ve you been? Have you been sick? You look a little green. Haha, j/k. Good joke, ldi. Good joke, indeed.

Anywho, I was just wondering if you remember the last time we met up. Remember? It was a little more than a month ago. Srsly? You don’t… Okay, well, what happened was I saw you, and I thought to myself, Well, I could walk around you… or I could jump over you. Guess which one I decided? It was to jump over you.

Anyway, long story short (too late, j/k) I landed just fine, and everything would’ve been cool like that, but then I twisted the hell out of my ankle, sprained it like crazy, it swelled up to softball-size proportions, and many, many different shades of purple materialized as it started bruising.

On that day, you almost won, Patch Of Grass. In fact, there were days when I was convinced you had won. The pain, the inability to walk, there were days I wanted to just give up, let you have your victory.

But that’s not how I roll.

So, through it all, I persevered. I worked through the pain, calmed the swelling, and finally, two days ago, I triumphed. Two days ago, I drove a car for the first time in over a month. Just to the gas station around the corner at first, but then to work, and then home from work. And I’m not gonna lie, it hurt. In fact, that night, I was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to drive again the next day.

But I did. And I will again today.

And so, Patch Of Grass, you lose. I win, and you lose. But I know that won’t sit well with you. Yeah, I’ve got your number, I know how you think. You’re probably planning something right now, aren’t you? And that’s just fine. Because when you strike again, I’ll be ready. The ball may be in your court, but we’re both on the playing field. (It’s a metaphor. A mixed metaphor.) Your move, bitch. Make it a good one.

— ldi

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