I was just a naive young volleyball net once. Eager to help people play a sport, have a fun time, maybe make some new friends. But now I’m a shell of the net I once was. The spark beaten out of me by half full red solo cups and empty bottles of Axe body spray.
I’ve spent entire weeks waiting for a used condom to get blown off of my netting by the wind. I once saw two guys fist bump each other after questioning why there isn’t a “White History Month.” From listening to their conversations for the first few days, I thought women were just lifeless sex robots that were only activated by cheap beer and atrocious sounds (which I later learned was the music of Drake). It was only after witnessing my first party that I realized that they were also human beings.
Do you know how much ejaculate it takes to fill up an empty bottle of Crystal Palace? I do. I’ve watched more freshman boys consume fecal matter than one volleyball net should ever have to endure. My memory has blocked out the entirety of 2007. I have no idea what happened that year but when I think about it really hard all I can remember is the sound of a billy goats bleating. I’ve spent too many sleepless nights trying to connect those dots.
I sit here all day, gazing at the empty beer cans and cigarette butts and dried crusty vomit littering the sand beneath me, and I can’t find one goddamn thing keeping me sane in this world. Where are all the shirt sleeves? WHERE DAMNIT?!!
Every day I awake to a fresh hell. I’ve witnessed too many arguments about why Obama “sucks dick” occur in broad daylight. I don’t even think these people own a goddamn volleyball.
Once, an incident involving jungle juice and a faulty tractor lead to me being covered in gasoline. I longed for a still burning cigarette to be littered in my vicinity so I could leave this world in a blaze of disgusting-smelling flames.
I can’t talk about this anymore. The pain is too raw. Please-just leave me to live out the rest of my volleyball game-less days in peace.
Originally published: Nov 2013