An old soccer injury

I was thinking earlier about everything we miss when someone dies, years of wonderful stories, It makes we feel like I should take down everything interesting that happens in my life. It was my Junior year of Highschool and I was playing varsity soccer. I loved it, I practiced non-stop, I showed up early for practice to practice dribbling and passing with my left foot. I played defense, I was a wall. Years before that however Joe D and I had a run in; it was an accident. I pulled three muscles in my right thigh. It never completely healed. This was the day however, that my friends were coming to watch me. We played a good game, we won. All my friend remember though is when I went to take a goal kick, and did, the ball went pretty far, but I feel on my ass because my leg the one I hurt suddenly decided it didn't want to support me anymore. When we left the field they were all laughing and teasing me I was annoyed the only thing they remember tsk. It was a good game. Honestly though, I'm not sure I can remember anything else either.

Even a code

I smell oranges, it reminds me of engine grease. The idiosyncrasies of smell. Someday I will discover its power unlocking the ability to smell donuts anytime I want. there is something delicious about warm sugar. I think about writing in codes. Codes of cookies and fish, long strung metaphors so confusing nobody really knows what I'm talking about except me. The only problem is code is already code for something else. Maybe I'm in past the safety line already.