Now I can0ˆ9t eat

Earlier today, while playing basketball at the gym, I was elbowed really hard below my jaw, causing me to bite my tongue. I could taste blood and my jaw ached, but I kept playing because I0ˆ9m hardcore like that. Afterwards, I looked at my tongue in a mirror. There were two small cuts from my front teeth, and a big gash from my canine. I squeezed the gash, causing blood to squirt out of it. It was kind of cool, but it hurt a lot too, so I stopped. Eating or drinking also causes much pain to my partially severed tongue, so I0ˆ9m refraining from that as well.

I0ˆ9m a big fan of wounds. They allow me to glimpse inside my body, to see it functioning as a machine. Most wounds occur between April and November, when people do stuff outside. Today0ˆ9s incident marks my first wound of wound season.

One of my coolest wounds (besides breaking my arm) happened when I was a junior in high school. I was playing touch football on the street in front of Ellie0ˆ9s house. On a buttonhook pass, I slipped on a patch of gravel, simultaneously scraping my elbow, hip, and knee. I was impressed that I had enough kinetic energy to rip through both my khaki shorts and my boxers, to take an unhealthy amount of skin off my hip. Since my elbow bore the brunt of the fall, it had the most gravel embedded under the skin. I was surprised how little blood there was, until I started picking pieces of gravel out. Apparently, the bigger pieces were blocking veins, which gushed blood. I thought it was cool; and by cool, you know what I mean.

When I was much younger, I was pretending to be Michelangelo (from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) and cracked my head open with a pair of nunchaku. Last year, I got dozens of cuts on my hands and forearms teaching myself to catch and throw butterfly knives. I don0ˆ9t have a good history with ninja weapons.

Sprains, twists, and jams are not cool (because they don0ˆ9t break the skin), nor are life-threatening injuries.

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