"She shouldn't be doing this! She should be home in bed dying..."No. You didn't really say that and of course you never would.
Of course it is simply your worry for me and your inability to cope with intense situations.
Your fear that I will die and how that will be thrown upon you to deal with.
But still...
Screw you that I should be home in bed dying instead of riding my bike and living.
Did you really mean to say that out loud?
They were listening.
Every day that I fail on my bike is still another day that I lived to do it.
Fuck you.
I fell apart in the middle of a race. You fell apart in the middle of your life.
...At least I did it. I didn't stand on the sidelines worrying about me.
There is no "what if...?".
I know how I would do in a fast fucking race, because I did it!
I failed. I did not die. You did. Or maybe you were already dead.
"Don't beat yourself up", you said.
I don't have to. That's why I have you.
You pretended to support me while they watched you falling apart as your contempt for my sport became clear.
Where was the truth?
Why did you come?
I failed in a race. You failed me.
Poor you. Poor you who must worry about poor little fragile me.
I did not fail because I should have been at some other place.
I did not fail because I did not feel well.
I simply failed.
I failed. I did not die.
...and I am thrilled about it!
