Wow, my face has had some tough and interesting things to ‘face’ haha. Ok, maybe that was a bit stale. But my point is that my gentle face sometimes gets fed up with it all.
Let’s talk about my sensitive ears first. My ears are calm, kind beings. They hear many profanities, but never answer back! They never reply with a mean remark, they never question life. Poor ears. I don’t know how they’re still coping with all that I hear. Only a week or so ago did I hear what a twelve year old had ‘experienced’ with her boyfriend. I truly feel sorry for these sinless body parts.
Next, my mouth and nose. These features hate each other. My mouth likes closing itself to make my nose do all the breathing work. The nose gets very annoyed at this action. So it gets its revenge by striking up a cold and preventing my mouth from receiving taste from food of course this annoys me, how can my very own body parts do this right ON me? Jeez.
My eyes, I cannot express how much they have suffered. One eye is a lazy eye, but that’s ok as the other one loves concentrating. They make a great team, but when I look to the right, because of my nose, my lazy right eye sees everything blurry. Yeah, I’v tried waking it up, no success.
These eyes have seen ghosts (yeah, comedy aside, I’v seen god knows what), photos of her ten year old friend kissing (if you’re wondering why I have a ten year old friend, Facebook does weird things), and also her teacher joyfully making out with another teacher. Plus- they sting whenever I get nervous or wake up early. Imagine a weird girl trying to convince people she isn’t crying when her eyes are gushing out more water than the Three Gorges Dam.
What can I say? My face (or rather, head) has been through hell. And it’s not just that limb. It’s my foot and finger too.
I broke my ankle when I was seven. It was in school. I was pretending to be a dog, and my friend pulled me up, animal abuse, much? I stood up awkwardly and twisted my ankle, causing a quite melodic snap. My best friend was obsessed with doctors. And pressed around which probably made it worse. I was forced to walk all over the school on it, and then lie that my ankle was not broken to the doctor. It was painful. I hated doctors. I was told by an older girl that they shove tubes up your broken part and smash it with a hammer to set it if it grows wrong. So I lied that it wasn’t broken. Ouch. Not easy. It got better, but still hurts at times.
I broke my middle finger (on my left hand, unfortunately, I still had to write at school) when I was running home in fear of being late. My bag caught in the radiator, and as my fingers where caught in its straps, my finger got pulled. I only noticed the damage in the bus. It hurt like hell and still does. I was twelve. I was disappointed that I couldn’t flip people off with both middle fingers, though. Yeah, I missed that. I got the people on my table to do some of my work, still.
And back when I was in Primary (or Elementary) school, a boy broke his leg. Everyone loved his crutches. Oh, the joys of hopping about on two sticks. In fact, they liked them so much that they started throwing themselves off buildings to break their own wrongly proportioned anyway legs, and bag a pair of crutches.
In other news (I’ve gone quite fond of that phrase), my parents agreed to home schooling. Mission completed. Now they just need to organise it 😛 ahhh, I have always been a good persuasive speaker. 😀
(no Diya image signature, as I’m typing this on my iPad. Right, off to Angry Birds.)