I don't have much to say. I don't really know if I should. I don't want to be presumptuous. I don't even know if you're reading this. If you are by chance reading this, go ahead and disregard the last line; clearly, that is not the case. I know I sound humble right now, I'm sure of it. I'll try not be funny—will you shut up I'm telling her! This is as much for me as it is for you I think, and I hope you understand. Maybe more even—if anything, it'll salvage a point. If anything, it will help. Sorry I compared you to others, the other girls in your pictures, those on the backend, and my behavior on the backline; sorry for the things I had no right to, and other things I have no right to. I was offside.
You're incomparable, you're like the villain in a timeless film. You make the movie. And I guess, then, well—but your mother's the hero. Guess I'm trying too hard to be funny again. I know I nailed a couple up there, I'm sure of it; I hope you can tell I'm not very comfortable. I'm working while lining up my defense, I guess. It's noticeable, isn't it? Ah, babe, it's all that tactical analysis I've been listening to.
Where am I going with this? Am I sabotaging my effort? Besmirching my own present again? Am I asking myself too many good looking questions, providing myself a brilliant cross? Am I behind a pass that'll slice through the defense? Babe look over there! Okay, I have changed my tone.
I was so petty when coach said you should take the penalty kicks; in the locker room I didn't defend you. I didn't understand what it meant to be teammates; most games I was trying to block your shots. When you tried to set up a play, I came up behind and pushed you. You were out for three weeks with a strained calf muscle injury. It was deplorable. It was the worst. When I had the ball, I wouldn't even give out an assist and called you a goal poacher. What were you to do? Life's not as simple as strikers and goalies. Guess I need to accept that if I'm ever going to get out of this contract. I don't even know if my team can make it to the Intertoto Cup.
I don't want to change your thoughts anymore, ruin your career with my cleats—I just want you to know I'm sorry for the sad and terrible goals I was on the end of. I hit you with some brutal headers. I was the poacher. Obviously, this was during practice when you had the crazy idea of trying out for keeper. And if you can remember some of the good goals as well, the ones we made together during qualification...well, then don't think I'm being manipulative hey you're remembering thems on your own. Hold on...Great, the linesman again. It's my backline. These guys can't get it together, babe. I need to work on that. You can't go through life resenting a blind ref. I can't say much more, I'm sorry—the police are after me. I threw a five dollar bill on the counter and ran off with the cake. It's worth way more than five dollars. Thought I'd get a value with a capital V.
I know you want the best for me, I know you want me to have it all. But I won't. I'll share it with others. And together we can stay above the relegation zone. They don't know the history behind what they're eating. They don't need to know. Next time I see someone walk up to take their cake, I'll try to remember that. I hope you're happy.
Doesn't that last line sound like letting the air out of a little balloon? You were my balloon. I used to squeeze you. Okay, they're here. I'm going to get out of the car now. I have a price gun.
bambkaneroffkay em arel ko hamar
I know the date is wrong.
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