It occurs to me, almost too obviously, that I remain socially immature.
To analogize for awhile, I am a social ballplayer. Many of the guys my age are near retirement. They are capping off the final touches in their brilliant careers with the ladies. Many of them all-stars and record holders. Some of whom will go on to reside in the great Hall Of Fame. Me? I am a backup shortstop in the minor leagues. And I'm only getting older...
If ever there comes a chance someone better gets injured (the starting shortstop), perhaps I will finally get a chance to prove myself. But for now, I can only hide in the shadows. Cheering from the dugout, day after day, pretending that I'm content. I'm not. I should be out there showing what I know I can do. But the simple fact remains that I'm not. ...And I don't know why. All I do know, is that at this point, by the time I ever do make it out onto the field, I will be too old. I am living a ballplayer's nightmare. It just keeps going and going and going...
And isn't it funny that for years I wanted to be a ballplayer?
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