My toxic relationship wasn't with a person—it was with a sport. At the age of ten, I started to play competitive basketball, and instantly fell in love with it. Through the seven years I have played the sport, I have played on recreation teams, travel teams, church teams, state level teams, and various basketball camps. Although I was never considered "elite" my passion for the game still lived on, and ended up ruining.

After my sophomore year of high school, I had to quit basketball, for unforeseen circumstances. I was mad at the world, at God, at myself, asking what I did to get the one thing I loved taken away from me.

My love, passion, was what was killing me, and I realized it too late. The damage has been done, things broken, and I had no choice but to move on.

Basketball wasn't just a sport to me; it was an undying love that I thought could never end, and could never be replaced when it was gone. I thought about it all the time; how I would do at my next game, when my next practice was, and whether if I was ever going to get recruited. I was never the best, and it angered me. It angered me to the point if I made one simple mistake, I would turn furious at myself, degrade myself to the point where it affected my mentality not only on the court, but in the classroom and my friendships. I was becoming a perfectionist over the years, and not only demanding success out of myself, but those around me. Through the years of self-degradation, I never came to the realization that basketball was only a sport, and didn't define me as a person.

I let basketball abuse me to the point where I played through a shoulder injury, which almost required an extensive surgery on my shoulder. I was in pain for months, and did nothing to suppress the pain I felt, both emotionally and physically.

My love for the game destroyed me. As I search to find new passions, I hope that one day, I find something that hasn't destroyed me. Love is a powerful thing, but sometimes we are oblivious as to what it can do to ourselves.