9

Marcus: How’s the boy holdin’ up?

Dimitri: Trouble breathing, moderate bleeding from the head and right arm. Arm seems to have severe burns, burns looked to be preplanned, look to be tribal markings. Origin, from Contusion or Three Suns.

Marcus: Calm down old man, speak slower!

Dimitri: His arm has sustained strange severe burning, but the tissue seems to be regenerating more quickly than normal… Like a super-human regeneration

Marcus: These markings… You said they looked tribal?

Dimitri: Precisely. The markings look to have originated from Contusion or Three Suns. See how this part curves around his shoulder to his back? This is the ancient meaning of power for both tribes. And see how this burn sprouts off into branches, like a tree to each of his fingers… This means vengeance or perseverance depending upon tribe.

Marcus: Hmm… Interesting. The burns he had gotten from the house fire could not have caused such a blunt looking injury to the head. Maybe falling debris from the house hit him as he was exiting with the child?

Dimirti: Possible, but not likely.

Marcus: How?

Dimirti: Well, the blunt trauma to his cranium is indented sharply. It looks to me that he was, strangely enough, stabbed by the blunt end of a knife. He’s lucky he even has a chance to live through such a wound.

Marcus: No one could have that kind of strength could they? To stab someone with a knife, excuse me, the blunt end of the knife and leave such an injury is practically unheard of.

Dimirti: Unheard of yes, happens rarely, but still happens. With raw strength it is possible, but I believe there was something else behind that strength.

Marcus: What’s that?

Dimitri: Hatred. Rage. Intense psychological instability. To attempt to kill someone in such a way would mean this man made someone very, very, angry, or he made someone psychotic.

Marcus: I sense a bit of both then.

Dimitri: As do I friend.

Shepard: *cough*

Marcus: Who was that? Read more »

In 10 years I will fly. Whether that be on a plane, car, or jetpack, I will fly. In 10 years I will not remember my math partners names; or most of my friends. In 10 years, everything will be different. I will look different; maybe more mature. I will act different; maybe a little more wild. In 10 years I will be starting a new, different life. I have no idea what that might be, if I will have a job, a house, or a family. I don't know and thats the beauty of the future; its open and free for me to decide. I’m in charge of my future, and I’ll fly myself wherever I want to go.

Saying good-bye to your friends is kind of like saying good-bye to your family and it’s not at the same time. It is like saying good-bye to your family because you’ve created a unique bond with everyone of them. And it hurts to say good-bye to them because you will lose that unique bond with them and you will never have the same bond with anyone else. It is not like saying good-bye to your family because your family is there through all the tears, through smiles, through the anger and through he hurt. And they still say, “ I love you”. And they always will. They are the ones that watched you grow up from a little girl with pig tails in her hair, to a young woman with a veil in her hair. They were the ones when you were little and weak and to young to take care of yourself. They changed your diapers, kept you clean, got you dressed, and feed you every morning around three o’clock. So the least you can do is until the time you have to say good-bye to them is to take care of them like they did to you when you were to weak to take care of yourself. But the moment when you have to say good-bye your in the hospital room 301, which is full of sadness and remembrance with your head laid on the side of the bed your hand in your mothers hand. Your eyes are heavy with lack of sleep, and tears. Because you know it’s time to say good-bye.

I’m not going to lie
    and say that I understand this.
        because I don’t.
I’m not going to make excuses
    to make myself feel better.
I’ll say the truth
    and nothing but the truth
        because only I know how I truly feel.
I’m not the only one that matters here,
    but I’m lost,
        and I don’t know what else to do.
I’ve lost friends.
    I’ve shed oceans of tears.
        and I’ve made plenty of mistakes, too.
But even I know that this couldn’t go on,
    and I’m through with feeling this way.
This wasn’t at all what I thought it was,
    and you’re not at all who I thought you were.
There’s no simple way to explain this,
    but now,
        goodbye is my only option.

Goodbye.

The word rolls off my tougne.

Goodbye. 

The tears slip from my eyes.

Goodbye.

My heart wrenches.

Goodbye.

But I wish you'd stay.

Goodbye.

My face remains solemn.

Goodbye.

My throat closes up.

Goodbye.

My stomach squirms.

Goodbye.

But I wish you'd stay.

Goodbye.

That's all that's left to say.

Goodbye.

It won't matter anyway.

Goodbye.

I'm alone again.

Goodbye.

But I wish you'd stay.

Just Before we say good-bye I think of all the good times we had. Like thinking of “our song” even if we didn’t know that we knew it all along.
Just before we say good-bye I recall we said we’ll be together forever. Or how we use to laugh, and cry, and talk for hours on end. The inside jokes that only you and I know.
Just before we say good-bye a tear falls from my eye. I think of how we would dance down the hall. It didn’t matter what others thought, we didn’t care at all. Just before we say good-bye I will remember those stupid fights wee would have, But most of all I will remember you, just before we say good-bye. You never know how much you had until it's all gone

Saying Goodbye to the Past
Wyatt Kay
Letting go, saying goodbye to your past.
Making new history. Erasing memories.

In comes the new
Out goes the old

In come the new people they value most.
The people that make them happy by
Waking up next to them.

Out goes the old, their friends pass.
Trying so hard to forget history.
But it’s not so easy to forget
Good times

Letting go of the ones that mean the most
To them. Desperately trying not to forget
The family they need, friends they have,
Partners they loved.

There’s no reason for saying goodbye,
They will grow old together.

Same routine every day. But these two
People grew old and lived with the ones
They loved most.

I pack up lunch, as the kids frantically put their shoes on. He grabs the kids and puts them in the truck. I want them to ride with him before he leaves. I get into my own car, and we set out. He knows where this place is, but I don’t. I follow him, my music cranking, so I don’t have to hear myself think. It is a beautiful day. Within ten minutes, we are on a hill, getting out the picnic. Our baby girl and little man hop out of the car, their squeals stumbling over the grassy countryside. He looks at me and smiles. We take hands, and carry the lunch up to the shade of the willow tree. The unruly kids pop back around, ready to fill the little lions in their tummies. We all laugh as they make smiley faces with their watermelons. Then, one peanut butter face asks the one dreaded question. “When will you come back, daddy?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at me. “I hope as soon as I can.”

I try to keep a smile, and to not let the tears fall. One small, silvery speck of water descends down part of my cheek, as I swiftly wipe it away. The littles don’t see it. Good. They go off and play. He looks at me. I try to smile, but even I can feel that not much muscle is listening to my brain at that point. He sweeps me into his arms, and I let it go. Two, three, four tears protrude from my foggy eye, each one making my eyesight clearer. I just let them fall onto his camouflage suit. I calm down, knowing that every last moment counts, and I shouldn’t be wasting my time by weeping my sorrows away. We sit there together, as we listen to baby girl giving orders to little man about how the should play their game. He checks his watch. It is time. He flies them in the air and gives them both a kiss. He stands, holds me close, and kisses me. Then, he walks away, gets in his truck, and drives away. These are the last moments that baby girl and little man will have with their military father.

I pack up lunch, as the kids frantically put their shoes on. He grabs the kids and puts them in the truck. I want them to ride with him before he leaves. I get into my own car, and we set out. He knows where this place is, but I don’t. I follow him, my music cranking, so I don’t have to hear myself think. It is a beautiful day. Within ten minutes, we are on a hill, getting out the picnic. Our baby girl and little man hop out of the car, their squeals stumbling over the grassy countryside. He looks at me and smiles. We take hands, and carry the lunch up to the shade of the willow tree. The unruly kids pop back around, ready to fill the little lions in their tummies. We all laugh as they make smiley faces with their watermelons. Then, one peanut butter face asks the one dreaded question. “When will you come back, daddy?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at me. “I hope as soon as I can.”

I try to keep a smile, and to not let the tears fall. One small, silvery speck of water descends down part of my cheek, as I swiftly wipe it away. The littles don’t see it. Good. They go off and play. He looks at me. I try to smile, but even I can feel that not much muscle is listening to my brain at that point. He sweeps me into his arms, and I let it go. Two, three, four tears protrude from my foggy eye, each one making my eyesight clearer. I just let them fall onto his camouflage suit. I calm down, knowing that every last moment counts, and I shouldn’t be wasting my time by weeping my sorrows away. We sit there together, as we listen to baby girl giving orders to little man about how the should play their game. He checks his watch. It is time. He flies them in the air and gives them both a kiss. He stands, holds me close, and kisses me. Then, he walks away, gets in his truck, and drives away. These are the last moments that baby girl and little man will have with their military father.

Oh no.
It’s today.
My big final exam that’s worth half my grade in math.
I hope I studied everything..
What if I skipped a section?
What’s the square root of pie again?
I forgot what to do with fractions!!
How do I graph coordinates?
I don’t remember studying that!
All these things running through my head while I tap my foot with fear.
I hear the tapping of pencils on the desks.
*Ring*
Oh no…the bell has rung!
My exam is about to start!
Oh my gosh I’m going to fail.
My parents are going to be disappointed in me.
WAIT!!
Maybe if I pretend my stomach hurts I can go to the nurse and…
“ Good morning class.”
All my attention turns to my teacher.
Oh shoot..Here it goes.
“As you all know you have your final exams tomorrow so we have one more day for in class work.”
Tomorrow?
That can’t be right it’s today!
I flipped open my assignment book and see that the exam is marked for Friday not Thursday
Phew!!
I slump back in my chair and smile with relief..Just then I remember..
I have a science quiz today!!.

30 minutes until game time-
We, the whole team, have been at the gym for 30 minutes laughing and making jokes. It wasn’t time to concentrate then. But now we have to start thinking about the game. There are still jokes here and there but overall people are starting to think about the game and starting to get serious, so we start to put on our stuff. Since I get blisters on my feet I have to get them taped up before the game. I then start by to change into my uniform, shorts than shirt. It’s a night game and it’s cold so I put on under armour before my jersey. I then put on my sleeves for my shin guards for soccer. Next, I put on my socks, left than right, always. I then put my shin guards in the sleeves and then taped around the bottom of the shin guards so that they don’t move during the game.

20 minutes until game time-
We start to stretch inside to get muscled loose before warming up and putting on our cleats and going outside.

15  minutes until game time-
We put on our long sleeve warm-ups and then our cleats. We then stand outside the locker room and wait until everyone is ready and we are given the okay to walk on the field. We all look very professional in our matching shorts, socks, and warm-ups.

2 minutes until game time-
After we do are warm up routine we are ready to go. Everyone is pumped up for the game under the lights in front of our home friends. Everyone is on adrenaline, even the substitutes are ready for the call from the coach. Read more »

Dear you,

                Saying goodbye to you will be, without a doubt, the one of the hardest things I could do. I am trying to figure out why though. I have known you for only eleven months. Even then, I feel you know me better than anyone else, including myself. I feel as though I am closer to you than most everyone else, family included, but then I treat you as my family. I think of you as the older brother who I look up to for support and guidance. The older brother who I know I can talk to, and will listen to me, without judgment. You are the older brother who will go up to a guy and threaten him, telling him not to lay a finger on me.

                You have helped to pick me up, when I refused to even admit to myself that I had fallen. You listened to me, heard my pain and told me that it is normal; you told me you had felt some of that same pain a while back. You told me I have no reason to feel that pain, because I am stronger than that.

                When I look at it like that, saying goodbye to you will be hard, because you have been so important to me. Don’t go getting a big head, thinking about how important you are, but I think that despite knowing you for so short a time, you have left the biggest impact on me of anyone else. For that I am grateful. Good luck at college, and goodbye.

“Your little sister”

Each color is associated with their own feeling. Yellow- To Some yellow is happiness, the happiness felt when a little girl runs to her father as he steps off of the bus from serving overseas in the military. Blue- For most blue means sadness, sadness is the feeling you might get when you say goodbye to someone you so dearly love. Knowing you might never see them again. Black- it can be associated hate. Hate can be felt for many reasons. To me hate is what I feel towards myself when I’ve hurt someone deeply and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Green- Green is the color that means envy. Some people envy others looks, their wealth, and how they are perfect in every way. I am all these colors when I am all these colors when I’m around you. I am yellow because, to me. You’re my hero in camouflage. I am blue when I have to say goodbye to you. I am black because I hurt your feelings when I said goodbye to you. I am green because I envy your personality and how you can make anybody laugh. How you go out of your way to make anybody happy. Most of all what I envy is that, to me, your perfect in every way.

I am trapped, afraid.

Afraid of what you will do.

So I stay inside.

Stuck behind brick,

And I know I am safe.

I've been here a while.

Waiting for you to change.

But you don't, will you ever?

I cannot leave.

You will get me if I do.

I will remain hidden behind the brick,

And I know I am safe. 

These walls are made of brick.
Blow all you want,
But my shelter remains strong.

It is made of brick,

But so am I.

So I leave now.

I know you can't touch me.

Because I am brick.

And I know I am safe.

Soft bullets steadily pelting the yellow umbrella,
Crisp dry pages meet the warm rain in a messy hello,
Tears concealed on the aged pages,
Reading in the rain.

I am invisible,
Lost in thought under my umbrella.
I want to stay there
Where the rain is always warm and the story never ends.

But here, reading under the yellow umbrella
Which no longer fends off the droplets.
Water soaks the pages, blurring the words.
Nouns and verbs drip off the soggy paper.

Nothing lasts forever.
The rain will stop,
The last page will be turned,
And the magic will be over.

 Throughout my community, state, country, and even world there are more problems then one can possibly think of. You hear on the news of the global financial crisis, extinction of species, rapid climate change, world hunger, poverty, spending cuts, etc. the list goes on and on. Every time you listen to what’s going on don’t you think to yourself, if only I could do something to contribute to the dilemmas in our world, to possibly put a stop to what’s happening? Well, what if you had the power to solve one problem of your choice? This question, although tough to answer, probes a variety of different responses. If it were up to me, I would resolve the tragedy of the child death toll around the world. As of 2011, it’s been stated that some 21,000 children die, around the world, per day. That adds up to an approximation of, some 92 million children dying within the years 2000-2010, around the earth. (globalissues.org) Much of the population doesn’t realize this problem within our world. These children are dying by causes that can be easily solved; issues that are overlooked because we are so fortunate to have such wonderful resources. Simple things, such as sanitation, hunger, lack of warmth, etc… Things we take for granted most of the time. In our towns we see healthy children running around, children that have the opportunity to live a long and happy life; if only everybody were that lucky. This ongoing adversity may be overlooked because of current pressing issues around the world, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less important than the other problems. I feel strongly about the matter of child deaths, and if I had the capability to solve one world trouble, then this would be it. 

Love is complicated it’s never easy to get through. As long as you have two, both willing to work it out, and make it through. Who says it can’t be true? As soon as you fight for it, it can never be replaced. You both will forever have those memories of how it first began with just one simple question. Then from there it was holding hands down the school hall, swapping phone numbers , and smiling at every glance you catch from one another. You will always remember the first date. How both of you were nervously and excitedly waiting for each others appearances. Then the first kiss, just a simple one an the lips nothing big, nothing fancy, but for you it was something magical.
Then months and years go by and as you’re walking down the aisle your still smiling at the same person that experienced all those memories with you, the person that said “ I love you” through the good times through the bad, and every phone call, after every kiss. And when you reach the end of the aisle you both begin promises of marriage to be there for each other through sickness and health, through the good times and through the bad, and to still be there for richer or poorer. You both work your hardest to keep them.
More time passes and there was buying your first house, raising your own family, watching your kids grow and move away. In the end when you’re old and gray you both smile because the promises you made were kept from the beginning to the end.

She may be tall and slender with Clearasil clear skin.  Her glossy naturally highlighted hair may tumble gracefully down her back and remind everyone of the shampoo commercials on TV.  She might even have eyes that remind one of round dazzling sapphires or emeralds.  Her beauty is reflected in the stillness of the puddles that dot the roads after a rainstorm, the shiny metal surface of a car door, and through the lens of a camera.  It is reflected most clearly in a mirror, but it shines the greatest in her creations.  She is an artist, an athlete, a scholar.  “Beauty is a primeval phenomenon, which itself never makes its appearance, but the reflection of which is visible in a thousand different utterances of the creative mind, and is as various as nature herself.”(Goethe)  The sparkle in her eyes is from the joy she finds in what she does.   Every note she plays is tinted with beauty, just as each brush stroke is as intricate and unique as her DNA.  Her motivation drives goals into the net.  The rushing wind doesn’t stop once it hits the back of the net; it continues on in her life and lifts her higher and higher.  It carries her gently through the subjects about which she is passionate; breathing life into each page and lifting the words off.  The wind pushes at her back.  Her beauty is reflected in her talent.

Right now it seems like
the clock isn't ticking
in time with the world
spinning and spinning
in circles and it just
won't stop, won't forget
the good times, the abuse
is gone and silence
is the only thing left
besides the slow-ticking
clock, my beating heart.

dearest,

    i wrote you a letter once, my dear, words drifting from mind through bloodstream and out of pen, floating onto paper in crooked not-quite-perfectly-slanted cursive.

   you did not write one back, my dear; you wrote me a song, gentlest notes flowing from your delicate vocal chords as thin and light and transparent as spiderwebs woven into sweet-minor-key harmonies.

    you deserve a thousand letters, my dear, thousands of light hellos and regretful goodbyes; you deserve a paper-crane cloud in orange and turquoise swirling around your head, sunlight filtering through crisp wings to turn your dark hair sunset-supernova-oranges and your soft, pale skin moon-through-water blue [you have always been one for contradictions].

    if you were not you, my dear, you would have been born as a cloud of dust floating through the air, capturing sunlight as if through gold; you would be the simple, everyday particles of not-quite-nothing that make me pause for a moment and watch the tiny universes swirl as i breathe [you have always made me see the brilliance caught up in wisps of mundanity].

    had you been anyone else, my dear, you would not have been beautiful. you are physically lovely, but any other spirit caught up in that body would have tamed your wild, wild hair and darkened your gently pale skin until it was unrecognizable. only you could live inside yourself and create a halo of unruly dark gleam to frame a moon-pale face and bring your eyes to life in supernova-moon-through-water-dust-mote sparkling light and dearest, those eyes lock onto mine and make me catch my breath, because, dearest, oh, dearest, you don't know how beautiful you are [because for all you see the beauty in mundanity, you cannot see the perfection in yourself].

I walk in, exasperated from lacrosse practice, sniffing in the wonderful food. “What’s for supper?” I ask. The woman looks up, her golden-copper glasses covering her twinkling blue eyes.
“Macaroni and cheese. I’m headed out to Zumba, though, so can you set the table?”
“Sure.” Read more »

what if objects could talk,

move, think, act human?

I believe it would be something like Beauty and the Beast-

minus the beauty.

already, I am ridiculed,

made fun of by humans.

inhuman having that capability would just make it worse.

I can only imagine...

the Rug trips me and the Walls laugh along.

my Backpack finds humor in my constant struggle

with carrying such a weight on my shoulders,

a weight that feels like the world.

Doors slam in my face when I try to escape the Room harassing me.

Windows allow me to catch a glimpse

of what could be

before shutting the Shades,

surrounding me in darkness.

I can just see the Bed comforting me,

taking my fears just to throw them back

at the worst time.

the Pictures mock me, show me

fantasies that could never come true;

the Bookshelf feeds me similar lies.

the Clock races me to the end,

makes time seem longer or

shorter.

the Bureau presents me with shells

of what used to be.

I can imagine

my darkest nightmares hidden in

my Desk.

the Closet, my dear friend, betrays me too,

giving me all the memories it holds as a reminder of happier years,

smug as it

tells me I cannot go back

Ever.

the only thing left unmoving,

the Mirror,

stays silent on the wall, seemingly

an innocent bystander

but I know better- if anything it

is worse than the rest.

as I approach it,

the Mirror Read more »

This image was uploaded with the post I feel most alive when....

Test trust
You test me, so you can trust me.
You put me in awkward situations
To see how I handle them.

You try to let yourself go, but can’t.
You don’t trust me yet.

I tell you to trust me. I tell you I’ll
Never let anything happen. I won’t
Let you fall.

But if you do, I’ll be there to catch you.
I’ll be there when you need security.

You begin to let yourself fall. You begin
To trust me.

I tell you, to let your pass be history. I tell
You, as long as you’re with me, you’re safe.

You want to trust me, but your are scared
Could happen.

I pull you in, hug you, squeeze you, I tell
You to trust me. You’re safe now.

You trust me!

We stand in the bitter cold
Contemplating those like you
And every time the bell tolls
Another million gone
The snow is frozen to the pavement
Trampled
Shoveled
Untouched
Our banners screech what we stand for
And every time the bell tolls
Another million gone
A story of brokenness lies in this place
A cemetery for the lives drowned in a sea of fear
Because every time the bell tolls
Another million gone
There is no dignity in death
No health or care in ripping life away
Yet every time the bell tolls another million gone
We bow our heads to pray for you
God’s Hands to lift and tame hearts of stone
And every time the bell tolls
Another million gone
We’ve been told that “every time a bell rings, an angel gets its’ wings”
Shivers creep across our arms and it is not from the chilling wind
Because every time the bell tolls
Another million gone
We shake our heads and scrunch our eyes
We can’t believe all we’ve become
And every time the bell tolls
Another million gone
We can shake our fists at the sky
Or gather as we were
But every time the bell tolls
Another million gone
We can demand justice, plead for mercy
Or just collapse to the ground and cry
But for every time the bell has tolled
Fifty million
Gone

I’m reaching towards your face
Lightly with my fingertips
I attempt to stroke
But my touch only meets glass
I see you
Your beautiful smile
But it’s not enough.

I claw at the glass
The barrier that separates us
Longing for your smile
Your face
Your approval
Your love
Your anything
You’re everything….

But all my weak hands can do is leave smudged fingerprints and feeble scratches
While you continue to beam through the glass wall
I can see there are tears in your eyes
And no one can reach you
WHY
WON’T YOU
LET ME
TOUCH
YOU!?
Why won’t you let me heal you?
I can take your face in my hands
And kiss the water scarring your cheeks
If you let me through
I can comfort you
I can save you
Please
Let me love you.

But you put up these glass walls
That I attempt to smash
But you resist
And as I push against them with all my strength
You fight right on back
With an artificial gorgeous heartbreaking smile
Two sets of hands
Pressing into the wall
Touching
If not for the glass.

But I can’t help but notice
That in the places our fingers rest
That this glass wall
Is beginning
To crack…

I feel most alive when…

Well, there are many things that can make people feel alive. I feel most alive when I am around horses. When I ride horses there is a special bond between the horse, and I. I feel like nothing in the world can possibly harm me and that the horse is there, protecting me as we ride. Riding in a field, riding in a ring, riding on a road, just the horse and I. When I run barrels and get our best time with this horse and know that your bond is growing stronger and stronger each and every day. After going for a long trail ride rubbing my hand along my horse’s long, sweaty neck, feeling the horse’s heartbeat, nostrils flared, but knowing your horse will run to the end of the Earth if that’s what truly makes me happy. When I am on the side of the rode and a car drives by to fast, does your horse flinch? No, he doesn’t move, flinch, spook, or get scared. Why is this? This is because all of his trust is with me. Entering shows is scary, but winning or losing, we have the best time we can. Getting ribbons and knowing that your horse can’t say it directly, but he is saying it through his eyes, in a language only I can understand. Read more »

I feel most alive when…

Well, there are many things that can make people feel alive. I feel most alive when I am around horses. When I ride horses there is a special bond between the horse, and I. I feel like nothing in the world can possibly harm me and that the horse is there, protecting me as we ride. Riding in a field, riding in a ring, riding on a road, just the horse and I. When I run barrels and get our best time with this horse and know that your bond is growing stronger and stronger each and every day. After going for a long trail ride rubbing my hand along my horse’s long, sweaty neck, feeling the horse’s heartbeat, nostrils flared, but knowing your horse will run to the end of the Earth if that’s what truly makes me happy. After I on the side of the rode and a car drives by to fast, does your horse flinch? No, he doesn’t move, flinch, spook, or get scared. Why is this? This is because all of his trust is with me. Entering shows is scary, but winning or losing, we have the best time we can. Getting ribbons and knowing that your horse can’t say it directly, but he is saying it through his eyes, in a language only I can understand. Read more »

The moments leading up to the game. To describe it in one word, the only word that comes close it “Fire.” The game is about to go on and your hyped. You just want to get out there and show the world that you are better than the other team. And when that moment comes. The moment that the ball is in your hands, and there is 8 seconds left on the clock. You have to make art. You have to go with the flow and hit the game winning shot. The crowd goes wild and you send the other team packing and you go home a winner with your team. You're the man of the hour. Then you get to do all over the next game. You always feel good when you and your team are this great at the sport. The crowd loves you. Then you run out of the tunnel again, and the whole world is watching from home. The NBA signs you're paycheck and the fans are your employers. You do the best you can do for them doing what you love most. No better life than that. And then you're back in that locker room where it all started. You throw on your jersey and you run out on the court to play your rivals. Time to win this game.