being a basketball player, naturally, the basketball court would be my second home. however, the best view of the court and the activites, would be on the stairs next to it.
the stairs lead up to the hall. On days I have basketball trainings, it is usually closed. therefore, the stairs seems to be my private space for viewing activities on the court.
discarded tables, shaky chairs, dust n spiders are the only occupants. occasiaonally, some kittens can be found on the roof of the canteen stalls. these are what keep me company when i go up there to be apart from my troubles downstairs. i can think, i can cry; i can sing, i can scold. no one is around to hear them, at least no one would notice. i am in complete isolation. but once i stand up, i could see the court over the peeling, rusting railing. No longer isolated, but with the basketball players downstairs once again, like nothing has ever happened.
a place completely ignored, except for occasiaonal accompaniment of kittens. a place that isolates me from my troubles, my problems. a place i would have called my second home, which shares my sadness and joy. a place with only discarded tables, shaky chairs, dust and spiders as furniture.
found this short essay from my abandoned file.. i seem to haf lotsa rubbish. always left them abandoned after a new skool year starts. basketball was my only topic in all my essays back in secondary skool. it was something that motivated me, inspired me, and gave me to strength to move on. i dunno how, but bball was sorta like my religion, my spiritual support.. haix. n i've lost it now.
