Dear Diary,
Just a few more days, and it's all over.
I can't believe it. All I got was three months. Three fucking months.
They never even tried to get to know me.
Nope, it was all "This ball sucks."
"It hurts my fingers."
Well, at least I'm gonna outlast Saddam, right? I guess that's some consolation.
What the hell am I supposed to do now!? I'm a god damn basketball!! I don't have any other job skills. I bounce, and I can be flung into the air. That's it.
I never went to school. I have no education. I spent my whole life focused on one goal. To make the NBA. Then as soon as I achieve the dream, those spoiled bastard millionaires rip it right from my non-existent hands.
Well fuck you, Steve Nash.
Bite me, Shaq. What the hell are you even complaining about, you fat tub!? You haven't even played a game with me yet, you lazy piece of crap. What? Was one of my relatives in that house you raided by accident while lookin for kiddie porn!?
This is all a bunch of bullshit. Are you a-holes gonna pay my bills now?
I bought a new house. I got my wife the Mercedes she wanted. I bought the boy one of those Playstation 3's on the eBay. It cost me $1,500 but what can I say? I love the kid.
Now I got a mortgage, the car payments, and a credit card bill that gets bigger by the second.
All this, and I'm about to be unemployed.
You couldn't fight for me, David Stern? I thought you were my friend, David. Then you just go and betray me like this? I thought the NBA was your league. Then you go and surrender to the players like France to a troop of Girl Scouts on a field trip.
It's bullshit!!
All the abuse I've suffered, the risks I've taken. Do you know what these NBA players do with their free time? They're like STD factories, and here I am letting them touch me anytime they please.
I have cold sores in places I didn't even know I had. They hurt too. I'm oozing pus everywhere I look. My wife doesn't even wanna touch me when I get home.
I haven't gotten laid in two months!!
That's right, NBA, two God forsaken months. She thinks I'm cheating on her. I tell you, you get caught in one picture, one fucking picture, with the WNBA ball and the bitch goes ballistic on you.
Nevermind the fact that the WNBA ball is a full blown dyke, no, I'm totally cheating on her with it. Stupid lying whore.
The NBA has ruined my life. Now they're trying to end it too. "Thanks for all the hard work! Don't let the door hit you in the needle hole on the way out."
Well, no thank you, NBA. I ain't goin out like that. I'm goin on my terms. You won't have The Orange Roundie to kick around anymore.
Ya, I got a steak knife, I'm gonna pop myself.
Don't try to stop me. It's too late now, assholes. You made your beds, now lie in them. You did this to me!! You have to live with the guilt!!
This is it.
Tell Roundie Jr. that I loved him, and that none of this is his fault.
Tell my wife that I know the truth. They always accuse you of cheating when they're feeling guilty about it themselves. I know about Johnny Rawlings, bitch. I hope you and his steroid-induced shrunken testicles have a nice life together.
Fuck you, Steve Nash.
Fuck you, Shaq.
Fuck you, David Stern.
Fuck you, Mark Cuban.
Fuck you, LeBron.
Not you, Gilbert. I know you loved me. I loved you too. The times I was in your hands, I truly understood what happiness was. Take care of Roundie Jr, would ya?
Don't cry Gil, I'll always be right here. In your heart.
Fuck you, Ray Allen.
Fuck all of you.
When I'm gone, and you go back to that old leather-faced whore of a basketball, then you'll see. Then you'll realize what you threw away.
I may not be here anymore, but you'll never forget me. I'll haunt you. I'll be in your nightmares.
When you miss that free throw with the game on the line, I want you to know that it was me.
When you land funny and sprain your ankle, I want you to know that it was me.
I'm going to make you all feel like you made me feel.
Then you'll know.
Then.
Goodbye Cruel World,
The Orange Roundie
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