Scrape

It's the second day of my junior year of college. It's Florida so it's always warm so I'm walking through my campus in my hoochie shorts because that's how I represent the 305. 

I, then, can indirectly blame the 305 for raising me to wear hoochie shorts because it's because I'm wearing said hoochie shorts that, when I clearly trip on thin air, I topple forward on an incline and scrape my knee against gravel. When I've managed to sit up, I breathe a sigh of relief because there isn't any blood...just white tissue.

...but then the white tissue starts bleeding...and bleeding...and ohmygawdwhywon'titstop???

Seriously, once the blood starts dripping it's like someone broke the proverbial skin-dam of my knee and the blood keeps pouring like something out of a horror movie. A girl rushing for a sorority stops next to me, asking if I'm alright and I manage to say, "No, thank you but I'm okay..." even as the blood starts to trickle down my shin.

"Oh no," She winces, looking at my knee and rummages through her bag, pulling out a set of bandages that definitely won't fit over my new boo-boo.

I actually laugh, "Do you carry those everywhere?"

She laughs back and offers to help me to the student clinic but I wave her off since it's thankfully 2 dozen steps away. I will spend the day with a bleeding knee, having to step out of my Tai Chi class because it's awfully difficult to pose like an archer when the three bandages I have over my knee are dripping wet. 

This wound will actually get infected in two weeks after I spend a weekend at my boyfriend's roommate's lake kneeboarding and will take another 6 months to fully close and heal.