the story of my only scar
Aside from the acne scars that litter my face, the only ‘real’ scar I have is right under my right eyebrow. It’s not incredibly visible and I would assume that most people who have seen me face to face have never even noticed it before. It was the result of an old injury, one that happened perhaps a decade or more ago, but the scar still holds on.
That fact amuses me, though it probably would not amuse my father if I ever mentioned it to him. Because the injury was his fault.
We were swimming together in a pool and somehow he managed to swim into me, ramming his head into my face. I was wearing goggles at the time, and they were inconveniently missing the sort of padding/sealant around the eyes that goggles usually have. And so they were jammed forcefully into my face and managed to cut into my skin. I remember it being a big thing, mostly because I have never been good with blood and I was understandably distraught.
But that’s such a stupid reason to get a scar, and so all I can do is laugh whenever I see it now. But somehow I feel like that’s a normal thing for scars; most of them come from stupidity and not some sort of amazing heroism or brutality, well, at least for those of us who live relatively normal lives.
~dys