Life isn't fair.
It doesn't matter how many fits I throw, or how many times I have to explain myself. Either way, we were moving away from the life I had tried so hard to build.
People knew me here. I wasn't a walking shadow in the halls, or some kid that they bump into because they didn't see him. I was known.
I took one last look at the park, admiring every curve and every dip. I stared at it longingly, hoping one day I'd be able to come back to it.
I turned and walked away.
Would I ever be able to hear the crowds chanting my name again? Will I ever feel that pride and adrenaline rush as I finish doing what I love?
Without all of it, who am I?
Stepping into the car, where my family waited, I made my two important decisions.
One: Forks, Washington was my hell on earth, and I would hate everything and everyone in it.
Two: With or without support, I'm going to come back. This summer isn't going to be the last time I hear my name called as a champion.