Human Target...

So, that's what I was at lacrosse practice yesterday. Seriously, I might as well have been in goal. But, I wasnt'. I was outside the goal, playing defense, because that's the position I play. Then, I was probably hit from five to seven times. No, not by people, not by passes, but from shots. See, in lacrosse, shots are supposed to go somewhat towards the gaol. Well, that wasn't the case. I was the new goal. An interesting style. Most goals are about 6ft.x6ft. I'm about 6ft.x1ft. A much harder target to hit, but I wasn't missed.

Three times I was hit, it was by the same kid. The first two times, I took it to the leg. It hurt. I didn't complain, but I was in pain. But when he had the ball the third time, and I saw him wind up for the shot, I turned around, knowing it would hit me. Sure enough, right on my left quadricep, the ball bruised on impact. Will I heal? Of course, what kind of a question is that? Will I start to dodge shots? Of course not! I'm still stupid enough to suffer for the sport I like. Will I shoot back at that kid the next time he shoots at me? Probably. Will I ever be a goalie? Well, I've got potential... sort of.

Something I should've seen coming

I sat with the most ridiculous look I've ever had on my face in French class. I was laughing somewhat hysterically with the rest of the class as we watched a blue cartoon character rap in French about how his friends liked to go to the park and have picnics.
Justin and I walked out of the class, mocking the most hilariously entertaining thing we had ever viewed in school. Still laughing, and adding our own jokes on, my arm was suddenly disturbed from it's peaceful rest at my side by a firm tap. I looked behind me to see someone I hadn't spoken to in about seven months. She smiled at me and said, "Hi, Josh!"
I smiled back, and confusedly said, "Uhh, what was that you called me?"
"Oh, uhh, Josh. I'm maiking up names now. Heh." She didn't attempt a correct guess at my name.
"Well," I began to say almost jokingly, "I'm Jonathan, I'm sure Josh is in this building somewhere, though."
She somehow managed to point him out in the crowded hallway as he passed, and said, "Oh, there's Josh!" She half-smiled.
"Are you okay?" I said.
"Oh, I got like two hours of sleep and all. I'm really tired."
I wondered how she managed only two hours of sleep when this was the school's late-start day. She was either awake until 8:00 or had only slept from 10:00 pm to 12:00 am. I didn't pry in that issue.
I noticed something different about her. Something that used to be in her light blue-green eyes was missing. By talking to her, it seemed this change was not for the better. She began talking about things I could hardly decode. None of it made sense. Now, I knew she had been one to talk quickly, but I had never heard her ramble nonsense while trying to make sense. I let her finish whatever rant she was on with a smile on my face, trying to share the almost-fake smile on her own as she went on. When she had finished, I said "Soo... where have you been lately?"
She hardly gave a moment of thought before she said "Well, not at your house, huh?"
I was pretty confused at this last statement, but replied like I wasn't. "Well, I can see that."
She began to ramble again, and ended her run-on sentence with a coherent combination of words saying, "What did you do this summer?"
I told her about my trip to Peru. She acted surprised, but told me after that she already knew that because she had seen pictures from somewhere. She asked why we were there, and I told her what we did. She started rambling again, this time about going to Peru for missions, not for missions, not going to Peru for not missions, going to Peru but not for not missions... and you think you're confused by what I typed? Before we parted in the hallways, I said that I'd see her later. I thought about how her ramblings lacked passion. How she didn't seem only two-hours-of-sleep-tired, and how she had left her good friend's (my sister's) side last shcool year in persuit of a "more successful social life."
This wasn't the girl I used to know. I used to know a passionate, considerate, smart girl. Something was wrong. This didn't make sense to me at all. I think she's done something really bad, and is trying to hide it by avoiding a true, flowing conversation, but all her rambling just makes it more obvious. I won't share her name, but just know she needs prayer... and a case of reverse irony. I hated to see her like that. I think she might have come to me for help. I need to talk to her again.