Instant_Star
SuperWhoLocked
- Joined
- Aug 6, 2011
- Posts
- 2,537
but I didn't know where to put it. Please be kind It's the first time I've put work up here 
Purple and Yellow Are NOT Complementary Colors on a Bruise
So, as I was standing at the side of the road today picking gravel out of my palms and dusting grass off my knees, it occurred to me that the first fall is the hardest. Every other fall is just… poetic.
You reach out to stop yourself, or maybe you don't. Either way, it's a gut wrenching jerk, and then... THUD. You hit the ground, it doesn't apologize, (after all, you hit it first) and for a moment; all you can do is sit there. You might cry, you might not; your mom might flip out, or she might not even BE there. Either way, it takes an awful lot to haul your butt back up and plod all the way home. You can sit there and wait for the asphalt to say “Sorry Dude!” but, of course it won’t. It just owned your ass. So you get up. You’re shaking, and your pride is throbbing, your knee is bleeding, your palm is stinging. The Gravel sounds like it’s laughing at you, but hey you’ll live.
It hurts, like hell. But then, it fades and the next time you fall it's not so scary; it's more surreal than anything. One moment, there's a horizon and a destination. A sky and a feeling that it's all okay, the next second; your feet get tangled and your horizon is cracked gray pavement and there's a dandelion and inch from your nose. Things get less okay. You just kind of lay there for a second and think “Well, Fuck me.” but, when you look over your hands, your knees, your elbows; the blood trickling from your knee is actually kind of a pretty color. It means life. If you can feel pain, if you can bleed, you're alive. (Postmortem wounds don't hurt and they certainly don't bleed.)
It's okay to fall; it's just another battle scar. Just another footnote on your body that says "One day I fell."
Purple and Yellow Are NOT Complementary Colors on a Bruise
So, as I was standing at the side of the road today picking gravel out of my palms and dusting grass off my knees, it occurred to me that the first fall is the hardest. Every other fall is just… poetic.
You reach out to stop yourself, or maybe you don't. Either way, it's a gut wrenching jerk, and then... THUD. You hit the ground, it doesn't apologize, (after all, you hit it first) and for a moment; all you can do is sit there. You might cry, you might not; your mom might flip out, or she might not even BE there. Either way, it takes an awful lot to haul your butt back up and plod all the way home. You can sit there and wait for the asphalt to say “Sorry Dude!” but, of course it won’t. It just owned your ass. So you get up. You’re shaking, and your pride is throbbing, your knee is bleeding, your palm is stinging. The Gravel sounds like it’s laughing at you, but hey you’ll live.
It hurts, like hell. But then, it fades and the next time you fall it's not so scary; it's more surreal than anything. One moment, there's a horizon and a destination. A sky and a feeling that it's all okay, the next second; your feet get tangled and your horizon is cracked gray pavement and there's a dandelion and inch from your nose. Things get less okay. You just kind of lay there for a second and think “Well, Fuck me.” but, when you look over your hands, your knees, your elbows; the blood trickling from your knee is actually kind of a pretty color. It means life. If you can feel pain, if you can bleed, you're alive. (Postmortem wounds don't hurt and they certainly don't bleed.)
It's okay to fall; it's just another battle scar. Just another footnote on your body that says "One day I fell."
now I have a name for it.
I might change the title, it is odd, but then again... if you'd seen the really impressive bruise I got after I hit the ground maybe it isn't 
