Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Precaution

Nicked my leg when I was lifting something last week.
Rubbed the scab off of a bug bite, and a small trickle of blood crept down my calf.

"You're bleeding," some girl pointed out.

"Oh I guess so," I said calmly.

I had to leave the lifting demonstration, got a polysporin spray and a bandaid from the nurse. Later I had to fill out an incident report. I had to document exactly what happened, why it happened, the same kind of form that was filled out when my ankle was broken. I did not feel that this was necessary, however it was policy. I felt agitated the whole day.

For someone with more than a hundred countable scars, this dot sized wound, if you would even call it that, was getting more attention than any other thing I had done to myself. Cutting means I could be terminated if its discovered, even if it's on my time off.

I am going to try to wait this out.
Compulsion comes in waves,
So put on a lifejacket.

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