could. I drifted through the changing seasons in a life that did not demand any courage or tenacity. When I was on a skateboard throwing myself down a steep hill and pumping around the sides of the walls I had to swallow a gnawing fear in my throat. Every time I did successfully, it grew softer and softer, replaced by the adrenaline of triumph. Accompanying skating, a new fear had started to creep in: the way I felt when Georgia brushed past my hand, or laughed when I almost fell off my board, or sent me a song she wanted me to listen to. I was trying to brush that feeling away, or push it deep back inside of me. I thought maybe if I left it sitting on the asphalt it could burn away in the sun.
Step five: Every skateboarder falls often. It is important to learn how to fall properly. Put out loose arms to break your fall; by keeping them rigid, you risk breaking wrists. Roll out any time you fall; this may result in some cuts and bruises but it is preferable to the alternative of landing hard. At 7 A.M. I pulled into the front spot in the skatepark parking lot. I had rolled out of bed at 6:30 to beat the heat but my forehead was already sticky as I pulled my board out of the trunk. The park was empty as I skated a lap around to warm up, rising and falling with the concrete waves. I was doing repetitions of kick turns, pushing myself to rotate further every time when my torso twisted and in a second I was on the ground. Rolling onto my back, I groaned and held my shoulder. Since the skatepark was deserted I lay on the concrete looking at the sky. Surprisingly, the blue expanse was dotted with a few white puffy clouds. Usually in the scorching Arizona summer any moisture in the sky is quickly dried out, the sun doesn’t allow anything to obstruct its devastating rays. I pulled myself up and studied the scrapes on my elbow and knees. Slightly shaken up, I sat at the edge of the bowl when I saw Georgia skate through the gate and up to me. I showed her my scrapes and she cringed. “Last night Jacob and I broke up,” I told her. “Really?” she moved closer to me, concerned, “What happened? Are you okay?” Her blue eyes were wide with surprise, her lips turned down. She touched my scratched up hand. “Yeah I’m okay,” I said, “I don’t think we were that compatible,” my voice broke a little bit, “Sometimes I feel like I’m too much for someone to love.” I tried to articulate the falling feeling in my stomach and sting in my eyes.
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