Scar
All of my scars are unique, they have their own thumbprint
They come from various events in life.
-Like that time I was around 10 and my lil brother tackled me on the ground playing War and I fell right on a lightbulb that just happened to be in the yard. Cut my leg in three places.
-The time I was around 7–8 riding on the handlebars of my aunts bike racing some other kids, the wheel ran over a big rock and we took a tumble. Mine was the hardest I ended up skinning my face clean. I might’ve looked like the thing from the movie “Hellraiser” minus the pins. I remember being carried in someone’s arms to my granny’s house. It resembled the scene from “Boyz in the Hood” when Ricky got shot except I was Ricky but I wasn’t shot though. My grandma ran and got the peroxide and poured it all over my face. Everyone was standing around watching me scream then they gave me a honeydripper. I had to walk around resembling Freddy Krueger for a few weeks but everyone was nice to me. I still have a mark on my chin from that.
-at around 16–17 (too old to be outside playing on skates horseplaying) I was at my friends house and I rolled down the curb of their driveway and right before the street the bump happened, you know the crevice between the street and the driveway. I ended up flipping and landing on my face and one of my front two teeth went through my bottom lip. Yes through the lip. Luckily her mom was a nurse that ran me to the hospital to get stitches to fix the gaping hole that was now in my face. I still have evidence of the patch job.
Believe it or not, there’s plenty more physical scars. There are also scars that aren’t so visible. Scars in my memory, thoughts, thought-process, emotional well-being. Our scars are there to make sure we don’t forget.
I wonder how long the list would be if we were to write down all of our scars including the ones that aren’t as visible
