I’m bloody frustrated this evening. Frustrated at myself. I was playing football this afternoon in the park with Simon, his friend Steve and a group of random people who I have never met before.
I played in my preferred position as a striker. Too many times for my liking I scuffed chances and was also denied a winning goal late on. That really, really hurt.
My performance started off below par too, although I am putting that down to dehydration as after a bottle of Lucozade mid-match, I was ready to go again. I still feel I should have done better and like any striker, whether they are playing in a park 6-a-side team or for a major European club in The Champions League, goal misses hurt, they hurt bad and the pain can only be rectified by scoring in the next match.
Ever since that game a few hours ago I have been feeling sorry for myself. It’s stupid how a silly, meaningless event thing can create negative feelings that you normally don’t allow to affect your life. Tonight I feel overworked, underpaid and undervalued in my job which I normally enjoy.
Life can be shit sometimes, but life has also taught me that unless you are Ainsley Harriot, the Worlds Happiest Man, everyone has these days. Tomorrow will be a new day and while it probably will not be fantastic, it will not be shit either and I may well have a good time and a laugh.
So, like my old science teacher used to say, (and believe me, he really did say this) “Don’t get the razor blades out just yet”.
Here’s a picture of the man himself (not my science teacher) to cheer you all up
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