well that SUCKED

Go figure. I had such a bad feeling about tonight, and I was hoping so so badly that I'd be wrong, but of course, I wasn't. I really didn't want to go to practice today. Today actually sucked so much for so many reasons. But I went anyway, 10 mintues late, of course. Thank you mother. So, after getting there late instead of doing all the homework I'd told myself I'd do, I started putting on my gear. My coach saw me taping a blister on my foot and he and my other coach launched into a freaking lecture about how he always tells us to wear two pairs of socks and nooooo one listens to him, and loooooook what it gets us. Well, thank you for that wonderful, enlightening speech, but I didn't get them from my cleats, nor have I ever in the past wearing ONE pair of socks I might add. So, after getting into the drills the one coach persists to make fun of me. Seriously? What the heck? Since when do I play soccer to be made fun of? I beat myself up enough when I screw up, I don't need your help feeling bad about myself, but thanks anyway. Then we broke into a scrimmage, and I started realizing how much better all the other girls are than I am, and I got all self conscious and screwed up nearly every play I tried to make, and each time I felt their annoyance and disapproval glaring at me. Then after about an hour of frustration and scolding myself, practice finally ended, we packed everything up, everyone started to leave. Except me. I was there, still, waiting for my parents to pick me up like a freaking ten-year-old. Late. Nice to know I'm a priority in your life. To top it off, while I'm getting into the car my dad made small talk with one coach who had the nerve to call us "uncoachable". I pretended not to hear, and played dumb when they asked me if I had. Of course I freaking heard you, you said it right in front of me. Shutting the door, I snaped at my parents about the coach's comment. Who the heck is he to say we're uncoachable? All he freaking does is stand in the middle of the field and get in the way, he doesn't know the first thing about coaching. Later I apologized for snapping and my mom starts lecturing me about how every time I come home from soccer I'm frustrated with something, and she wonders if I should even be playing. I know I sound like a little kid haivng a tempter-tantrum, but that's pretty much how I feel right now. Sorry to have wasted your time reading this.