I'm gonna be as colloquial as I can: There comes a point in time where you know that you're not supposed to be doing something and you wonder to yourself: "Why the hell am I doing this again?", and you know that there's only one answer. To many, many questions. And that is love.
Love for the game. Love for the good times. Love for the interactions that once were that were taken for granted and now forever treasured. Love for the stupidity. Love for the adrenaline rush that hits you harder than a guarana-loaded sugar filled commercial double espresso in a bottle after a huge can of sweet, sweet Mother.
That love that was once had, and forever missed, that brings a dormant soul back to a vibrant, passionate and willing individual that has his A game on no matter what the pressure.
Love make stupid people smart, and smart people stupid. And for some weird reason, I never take my own advice.
Perhaps I'm still considered a stupid person then.
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