Mute

Just. One. Before. We. Die.

(Dammit, it might happen sooner than we think under this regime.)

Another Season Bites the Dust

Last year, the Buffalo Bills battled through a ridiculous season, only to crash—again. I felt so upset and swore I was done with football. Of course, that was all rage, I’ll never be DONE DONE with football. HOWEVER, I refused to watch a single game this season, only listened on the radio—I like the local announcers WAY better, AS WE ALL DO – and I have come to learn that I just can’t handle watching on TV.

Mute.

I reallyreallyreallyreallyreally believed this was our year. And deep down, I also reallyreally knew I’d be an even bigger wreck if we reached the Super Bowl and lost. Most people in my world just want the team to get there, but my heart—oh, my heart remembers. Year after year after year after—year.

DO NOT LIKE.

Of course, this wasn’t our year, again. (Insert wah-wah refs complaint.) It was a close game, a true tit-for-tat battle.

Just listening to the game sent my heart rate into INTENSE ACTIVITY.

And after that final tat that didn’t tit for the Bills—the moment I knew we were done —I tuned out. I didn’t even listen to the last few minutes. I walked outside, sat on the garage steps, and shut off my phone. Just breathing in and out. The ONE spark of joy I looked forward to in 2025—gone.

So, yeah. I’m definitely not watching the Super Bowl. I skipped it last year. I couldn’t care less. I want the EAGLES TO POUND THE CHIEFS INTO OBLIVION, but—well, who knows.

MUTE.

Later that night, I scrolled through my news feed and muted several words just to get through the numbness: Mahomes, Chiefs, Taylor Swift, Super Bowl.

The life of a Bills fan…

Sigh.

Aside – ENOUGH WITH THE TWO POINT CONVERSION ATTEMPTS.