... so I picked up my baf to return to our apartment only for me to see a stone flying towards me, by reflex I used the baf in my hands to block the stone. It was a perfect block...but the stone broke the baf.
Seeing jazz used in fights was a part of my secondary school life. I guess this greatly influenced and fed fear in me.
Some laughed at me and changed my name to any-where-belle-face mocking the fact that I placed the ball anywhere my stomach pointed. It stung, but it didn’t keep me from continuing. Atleast I was stopping the goals...sometimes😂
No one ever wanted me on their team. I was not wanted. I hated the fact that I was good with my books, at least a lot more than others but I was no use with my friends on the pitch. I was practically an ignoramus when it came to things that boys did.