I can't quit you

My hip is like a bad boyfriend. Every time I take you back you disappoint me worse than the last time. You manipulate me and deceive me and make me think things are going to be different this time. You raise my hopes to monumental heights and then you let them all come crashing down in a perfect storm of despair and self-doubt.

I'm really over you. Really. Instead of sitting at home feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in my despair I'm choosing to say FU hip and pop a bunch of painkillers and go on with my life. I skied 3 miles into a backcountry hut last weekend on Willow Creek Pass in agony. I even carried a modest pack of gear on my back (Brian carried the other 48 lbs of it) as I gritted my teeth and cursed you throughout the 2 hours of moonlight skiing to the hut. Better to be in pain in the mountains with friends than in pain at home on my couch alone.

Hip: you've got a mere 5 months left on your contract and if you don't miraculously improve your performance by then you're going to get dumped and permanently replaced by a newer, more mature model capable of a committed relationship.