This post is about scars. Today, at some point, I was thinking about scars. Everyone has them. One scar is from aimlessly tumbling down a ditch in childhood. Another one on my knee was acquired from falling on ice. My favourite knee scar is comprised of three parts- 1) the long remnants of a botched incision, 2) a hole in the kneecap and 3) two little "x" shaped things above aforementioned incision. The story- at the age of fifteen, I was having the time of my life. My friends and I left school property to hang at a park. I ran and ran and laughed and laughed and rode the swing and jumped and soooooooared through the air and then landed, hard. Nothing about me has ever been the same since. They reconstructed a ligament in my right knee. I like to think the scar signifies a sort of bravery- repeated needles, an epidural, a night in a lonely hospital bed, hallucinating by way of injected morphine doses. How badass. There is a small scar on my eyelid that only *I* can notice, w...
:: the life of your average, ordinary, everyday superstar;
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