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Ah, yes, my knees. Always skinned, scraped, or otherwise abraded. The little scars and marks from previous scrapes-become-scabs. And by my knees, I don't simply mean my knees, but also the area around my knees. What a mess.

Does this say something about me? I'm 19 years old, a capable adult, according to most people, and I still skin my knees on a regular basis. I know that it proves that I'm not one of those pretty, popular, graceful girls we all knew in high school. But what else does it say? That I'm not afraid to fall? That I have an unstoppable attraction to sharp corners and gravel? Or only that I'm totally uncoordinated. Funny, I never though I was, but my knees say otherwise. Maybe my scarred, always scraped, never perfect knees are the reason I almost never had a date in high school.

Nah, I think my knees say that I am a happy person, that I'm not afraid of most things, that I discount most peoples opinions, that physical beauty is not all that matters to me, that I expect people to accept me for who I am...

Maybe I'll figure it out someday.

Or maybe I'll stop skinning my knees.

Last summer.. I was riding my bike, and apparently I did something really stupid.

I can't say for sure, because I don't have memories of what happened, only third person accounts of my own actions. Long story short, I was in eastern Oregon (Sun River) to be exact, and had an unsuccessful right of way negotiation with some igneous rock. The end result was what the doctor called a "mild" concussion. For several hours or so I jabbered nonsense (apparently I told the doctor that the guy who drove me was from Canada several times). I got banadages, a few stitches behind my ear, lots of scrapes and scabs, and a metric buttload of pain. What did we learn here kids? When they tell you "Always wear your helmet", they aren't lying.

Anyway.. eveything healed.. almost. My left knee.. has a rather large scar on it.. the one spot that remains a visible mark of my actions.. (why that particular spot didn't heal, i don't know. I would guess, however, that it is because the motions of walking never allowed it to scab over well, and so it scarred. The other knee was not so badly scraped). It is wierd: There is this missing time (hours) of my memory. Experience surgically removed. In it's place, a scar exists on my knee.

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