I’ve always been pretty clumsy.

One of my earliest memories is me slipping in the

shower at a young age leading my head to being bust open giving me the scar that rests in
between my two eyebrows that I’ve had since I was three. I barely remember it actually
happening, but it has become one of my mom’s favorite stories as she tells people how I had to
be held down so I could get my head stitched up where I was just shouting, “MOM! I’M STUCK”
which my mom laughs about everytime she tells the story. Unfortunately, that was not the only
time my head was bust open. My clumsiness came back in full swing in the second grade,
winter break. It was a violent battle between me and my arch nemesis, a sharp corner. I was
running in, water guns blazing, when my enemy’s trap had sprung, and I had played straight into
his hands, tripping over his expertly placed hose and hitting the corner of a brick wall head first.
My green Christmas sweater became even more festive with the addition of deep red as I once
again was at the hospital, getting my head stitched up. At least this time, they didn’t have to hold
me down so my mom didn’t get as fun of a story out of this one, but I did get another scar on my
head that becomes very clear when I pull my hair back. The story doesn’t end there though, as
my clumsiness struck for a third time in sixth grade, the day before spring break (Cue the
ominous music). Everyone was excited in our English class as our next class was our middle
school “Olympics” which was the exciting send off for the anticipated break. We were all
finishing up an assignment as the bell rang. Everyone rushed to the teacher’s desk to hand in
their assignments including me of course. As quickly as I ran, I just as quickly tripped over
somebody’s foot and set my head on a collision course with the teacher’s bookcase, causing
me to very quickly start bleeding, blood staining my blonde hair. I found myself wandering the
halls of the school with no clue where the clinic was, head getting covered in more blood.
Eventually I stopped a student who told me where to go and there I sat, waiting for my dad to
come pick me up, with an ice pack given to me as the only thing to help my wound. This made
matters worse as the school nurse had taped this makeshift bandage to my hair, which we had
to roughly cut out before we went to the hospital. We officially made the upgrade from stitches to
staples as I once again sat in the hospital with a bleeding head. On top of having staples in my
head the entirety of spring break, I also caught a stomach bug that was going around my family,
leading to a very sickly Jeremiah having a wonderful spring break. Fortunately, the puking
wasn’t from a concussion like many thought at first, which I somehow avoided in all three
accidents. A few years later, I was entering the legendary halls of high school. Up to this point, I
had busted my head open in every level of grading; pre-school, elementary, and middle. I was
99% sure I was cursed, and was prepared for the worst entering high school. Don’t get me
wrong, I definitely ended up with some cuts and scrapes through those wild, life changing years.
Made it through coming out of the closet, a relationship, passing relatives, and troubled friends,
but we managed to walk at graduation with the same three scars on my head, officially breaking
the curse. Of course I’m still the idiot who tries to do dumb things leading to injury, like climbing
a chain link fence, or running into a door, and my clumsiness will probably stick with me the rest
of my life. But on the bright side, it leads to pretty funny stories that are great for English
projects where I have to write about my life. Here’s to the next stupid injury that could definitely
be avoided with some common sense that I lack.