That one hurt, inside and out.

[opabinia]

When I was in the 10th grade, my girlfriend, a slouchy, hostile, and utterly irresistible tomboy in hi-tops, with white-blonde hair and bright green eyes, dumped me. I was devastated. I shuffled around campus kicking a cardboard box harder and harder until it came to rest, torn open, on top of a big rock. I didn't see the rock. Nearly broke my own foot.

My right ankle won't extend quite as far as my left. It reminds me that kicking boxes doesn't help.

(I'm definitely not in a box-kicking mood; nor am I trying to say anything to anyone. I was just reminded of this by darla's recent permanent-injury-related entry.)