There has only been a few moments in my life where I have been completely speechless. Where I take a quick breath before a tremendous wind of thoughts and instant conclusions rush through my brain like a tsunami. But on September 23rd, 2015 that moment was tiny. A short millisecond, right before the ball flung, at what felt like 200 miles per hour, instantaneously into my head. And you know what the first thing I thought was, besides damn that hurt? Picture day. I thought of going to school the next day with a beautifully placed black and blue bruise smacked onto my upper left cheek continuing to my ear.
That day was the first time I felt my mind slip away. A day I watched all of my responsibilities vanish into thin air. Stress and anxiety of school and college. The pressure of my teammates and coach on the soccer field disappeared. It all disappeared.
The first time I drifted away from reality, I found myself in an oddly particular memory. The day that started it all...
March 19th, 2008 was a casual Monday, at first. I remember I was seven and walking to school that morning alone. I took my usual route, passing the ice cream shop, the pet store and my favorite place: the park. Most kids normally liked parks because of the playground or the field, but I always enjoyed watching. I observed the families with children who were scraping their knees or going down slides and the overprotective moms always worrying about sunscreen. I had never actually stepped a foot in that park, or any park for that matter, but I always wanted to. Not because I wanted to go down the slides or scrape my knees, I wanted someone to watch me, pester me about sunscreen or catch me as I tumbled down the slide. For some reason, stepping into the park without a nurturing mother made me feel insecure and excluded, as if there were an unwritten rule or something.
But on my way home from school that day, I broke that rule. The park was strangely desolate and I couldn’t hear the chirps of children, the chidings of worried mothers, or the cheers of winning sports teams. As I continued to pass the park, something white caught my eye. I stopped and turned around to find a lonely, mud tinted white soccer ball smeared with grass stains. Without hesitation, I ran to the field and picked up the ball. Something about the soccer ball looked somber and abandoned, so I thought I would give it a home. Before anyone caught me, I quickly scribbled Alex, shoved the ball into my blue backpack, and carried on with my walk home.
It was the start of my secret soccer practices in the yard, where I taught myself how to place my foot right under the ball so that the laces perfectly kicked it soaring into the air between two pine trees. It’s very interesting the random memories that our brains choose to remember forever. Ever since I was a child, I have always had a good memory, but for some reason I cannot explain how I am here. Or where here even is.
I remember spending September 23rd, 2015 like any other day. School, soccer, homework, repeat. But it wasn’t just a regular game this time. We were playing the biggest game of the season, against only the town’s worst team rival of history. The one and only Runswick Slugs. They were the dirtiest team in our league, always trying to sneak fouls, pick a fight, or even break a leg or two. If that isn’t enough, their coach is constantly screaming and cursing ballistically. I swear I have never seen their coach not wearing a matching sweatsuit with a protein shake and whistle in hand.
We were winning 1-0 with a header goal off a corner kick by yours truly, but scoring a goal wasn’t a good thing when you play against the Slugs. Once you make a move on their team, you become their next biggest target. They let you receive the ball and then bam, three girls are right on you, tackling you to the ground. There were 5 minutes left of the game and I was thrilled because I thought we had won. I remember trapping a pass from Ivy Simons, our best defender, and looking up to find three Slugs players with terrorizing game faces. I was outnumbered. Our eyes locked and I knew this would not be good. I took a lead step with my left foot to set up a pass across the field with my right when suddenly, the right side of my body was slammed into by a girl’s shoulder. I instantly spiraled to the freshly cut grass, crashing my head on some girl’s knee on the way down. I let out a scrumptious moan as I received a delicious sample of the dewy, fresh lawn clippings. 
I remember the feeling of the hard-cushioned stretcher and the haziness of the ambulance lights bouncing and flashing with energy. If I focus hard enough, I can remember the concerned voices of the nurses, the shocked face of my mother staring down at me or the freakishly blinding white lights above. I recall being carted around in a gurney and passing a digital clock that read 6:17. I could smell the steel scent of blood and the stinge of the sterilized hospital pillows. Lying on that gurney while my life was in someone else's hands was the most lonely, helpless and degrading feeling I have ever experienced.
Everything after that is a bit unclear, it was my last memory before my world turned into one big, giant white noise machine. Surprisingly, it was relaxing in a sense; the faint noises of sirens, the awes of useless spectators or the continuous beeping was all shoved into the back of my brain. It was nice, like falling asleep with the TV on low volume. I let my brain rest and enjoy a journey away from my painfully confusing reality. I liked the remarkably satisfying way I could simply let my mind drift into another memory, whether it be my past or future, fake or real.
Before I faded away again, I remember it being hard to breathe, as if I were swimming in a bottomless ocean but I couldn't come up for air. And then a nurse, I assumed, stuck some type of tube into my mouth. I lost control of the one thing I could do involuntarily, my ability to breathe. At the same time, a huge weight was effortlessly lifted off my shoulder.
***
I wasn’t drowning in the water. I was breathing at ease, floating peacefully. I inhaled the fresh air from the tank on my back, as I watched the tiny bubbles escape within each exhale. I tilted my head downwards to find miles of gorgeous blues, pinks, and yellows through my mask. I felt the endless shades of green and red seaweed swaying freely in the ocean brush against my calf. The plethora of bright colors in the ocean were miles of coral reefs filled with beautiful sea creatures dancing upon them. The schools of fish flew about the current like confetti in the wind. As I reached out to touch one of the little, harmless blue-grey fish, the water suddenly became ice cold. My body shivered as goosebumps raced up every inch of my body. The water began to freeze and I swam as fast as I could to get to the surface. I kept swimming and swimming upwards until thud. The ocean froze, swallowing my legs under while my stomach and chest survived. I was stuck.
***
“Woah look at Alex! She's shivering,” I heard an echo of a teenage girl say in the back of my mind.
“I will turn the AC off and put a blanket on her,” the nurse stated reaching in the cabinets for a blanket. I’m not alone! There was no ocean anymore. No seashells or starfish, just the useless shell of my body shivering in a room that could be as cold as a freezer. Every bone terribly wants to desperately scream, “I can hear you! I am here! Please someone hear me.”
No matter how many times I scream with all my might or even exhale out a whisper, no one ever replies. Everytime, I wait just a few minutes and hope that maybe someone will break into this bubble of a world I am in. Being an only child, I have felt alone before, many times actually, but this feeling is incomparable. It’s like being a ghost or trapped under an invisibility cloak or something. Where my body is aware of reality on Earth and desperately wants to be heard, but the connection to my mind has been obliterated.
While my body is aching to leave the lonely state I am in, my soul is in another dimension, laughing and having the time of it’s life. I can only hope for some reasonable excuse why I am in this secluded place and why no one can hear me. There is some reasonable excuse.
There has to be.
***
Suddenly, I uncontrollably dove head first off a bridge falling head first towards a river, faster than the speed of sound. I was in such shock, a scream would have been underrated. I was gliding through the heavens with my arms wide like a bird. I passed the mesmerizing colors of the magnificent boulders carved by the Colorado River. A painter would be envious of the different shades of reds and oranges making up the beautiful rocks of the Grand Canyon. I continued falling for seconds, which turned to minutes, until, snap. My whole entire body was pulled away from the intense wind and sprung back into the sky. The bungee cord slackened and for only a millisecond, it felt as if I were standing in midair. I preceded to fall, then got jerked up by the bungee cord and then fell back down again. This happened about seven times before I heard another snap in the cord. This time, the snap of the chord didn’t throw my body into the air. I was cut loose. I inevitably meandered my way to the flowing river, crashing into the surface. The water stung my skin as I created a splash almost as tall as the Canyon.
***
“In all of my years at this hospital, I have never seen this much mud on a 15 year old girl.” The nurse gently scrubbed my skin with a sponge. I’m not surprised my bungee jumping extravaganza was another dream placed in my mind. Although, I was not as scared as expected. Heights never bothered me much. Silly enough, my greatest fear was lightning. I don’t know if it was the huge rumble before in warning or the inability to predict it, but ever since I was a child lightning always made me feel uneasy. The soothing strokes of the warm, dampened sponge on my back distracted me from my fear and trailed my mind off again.
***
I opened my eyes to be blinded by the bright stadium lights, shining down on me. The field was empty and alone, but I knew that would change soon.  I turned in circles staring at the rows of seats circling the field while families, couples, and fans shuffled in slowly. The huge stadium scoreboard was powered up and the score reset at 0 to 0. I  knew that would change soon.
Two teams entered the field gloriously, announcing each player's name. “And for Team USA: Alex Cooke, number thirteen, striker,” the announcer exclaimed, blasting through the speakers. I looked down to find myself suited up in a red, white and blue uniform, finished off with neon blue and yellow Nike cleats. Me? Alex Cooke, center-midfield.  It does have a nice ring to it. The whistle blew and the Women’s World Cup began. I started to run down the field as the Scoreboard was counting down hastily. 5 minutes and 43 seconds left. Time was being drained quickly, the scoreboard was rotating the numbers backwards expeditiously. 2 minutes and 17 seconds left. The game is still tied at 0, I need more time. Giving us length, I ran down the field, as the goalie punted the soccer ball. I was able to trap the ball, settle it down, and finally have control. I began dribbling, passing one defender, two to go. As I made my way to the eighteen yard line, maneuvering through defenders, I had an open shot. One chance to swiftly place the ball in the corner of the net, past the goalie. I picked my right foot off the ground about to strike the ball, I heard the long, annihilating buzzer. The game was over. 
***
“She’s coding!” The nurse pressed the blue button, calling other doctors. “We’re losing her pulse.” I could feel my heart pounding as the beeps increased their frequency rapidly turning into one long beep.
My mind keeps retracing my life, trying to find the moment everything went wrong, why or how I am here. I will never understand why a multitude of awful things are thrown at innocent, kind-hearted people. Or what I could have done to deserve this kind of life. I feel older, not just weeks or months, like I have been stuck in this snow globe for years. When I wake up, if I wake up, I will have missed out on so much of my life. Even though life is stressful and horrible at times, at least I would have been able to experience it. No matter how bad life can be, I will have to wake up guessing what could have been. I will have to wonder what I missed and what I will never get back. My brain could have kept wandering aimlessly, but I felt the same heavy, burdening weight again on my shoulders.
***
I was back in the ocean, but I was not calm or floating peacefully. It was as if I were shoved under a huge wave and drowning, not able to come up for air. It was the only time in my life where I completely gave up. Where I stopped fighting, I quit kicking my legs or flailing my arms. I let the ocean have absolute control. All I could think of was, what’s the point? What is the point of living when you have to miss out on so much of it? When I realized those thoughts were not me, this state of mind is not who I am. I cannot give up now. I began swimming and paddling towards the surface faster and faster, desperately in need of air. I made it. I popped my head out of the water, but I still felt something pulling my foot trying to drag me down. I knew I didn’t make it yet, not that easily. I kept battling until I heard the least expected noise possible.
The rumbling warning of thunder. 
Just when I thought I was going to survive, free at last, I saw a flash of lightning strike through the cloudy skies right above me. About a second later, another flash of lightning struck the ocean spreading infectiously. The electrocution jolted my every inch of skin and bone. 
***
“We’ve got a pulse.” The doctor waved defibrillators in the air.
Another voice that won’t hear me or respond. I didn’t bother to shout or cry this time, it didn’t work a thousand times before. Why would it work now? I knew it was just another useless echo making its way from the background noise to the front of my brain.
“When will she wake up? We need her on the field!” I heard a familiar voice bellow much clearer. I recognized that voice, Ivy Simons. I slowly opened my eyes to a squint, when I saw it. I saw Ivy’s face and another unfamiliar face walking through the hall and another one through the window. I saw a nurse’s face as she adjusted the blanket on my stiff hospital bed. Then I saw my grandmother in a rocking chair to the left, in her usual attire: pant suit starched and pressed, bright red pumps, a deep raspberry lipstick and her Loui Vuitton leather handbag. Feasibly, she was dolled up with her nose buried in a People magazine, even in the unadorned hospital room.
“Look! Look! She’s awake!” Ivy squealed, “Hey Alex! Ready to get back on the field and kick some Slug ass?” I can’t believe people still had hope and waited for me all this time. It seemed odd that I have been unconscious for years but my body hadn’t seemed to age much. My legs were still freshly shaved, my fingernails cut short to the brim of my finger, and not a wrinkle or gray was discovered. I averted my eyes to the right to find an alarm clock that read 8:49.
“Hi Alex, welcome back. You are in the ICU unit in the hospital,” the nurse informed, “You were in a coma for about two and a half hours due to a brain injury from your soccer game. Don’t worry, you are doing much better, but you will not be on the field anytime soon.”
Only two and a half hours? That does not seem possible, it felt like an eternity. My eyes widened once I managed to accept the fact that I am alive. I am alive and breathing and kind of healthy. I am not trapped in a “perfect” world. My snow globe has been shattered. I began to see things in a way that let me appreciate the world with all of its imperfections. I will always want to experience life, no matter how many obstacles are thrown my way. What more could I ask for? I was too weak to mumble out a word of contentment, so all I gave in return was my most jubilant, best smile. And I was present.