| Ah, yes, my knees. Always skinned, scraped, or otherwise abraded. The little scars and marks from previous scrapes-become-scabs. And by my knees, I don't simply mean my knees, but also the area around my knees. What a mess.
Does this say something about me? I'm 19 years old, a capable adult, according to most people, and I still skin my knees on a regular basis. I know that it proves that I'm not one of those pretty, popular, graceful girls we all knew in high school. But what else does it say? That I'm not afraid to fall? That I have an unstoppable attraction to sharp corners and gravel? Or only that I'm totally uncoordinated. Funny, I never though I was, but my knees say otherwise. Maybe my scarred, always scraped, never perfect knees are the reason I almost never had a date in high school.
Nah, I think my knees say that I am a happy person, that I'm not afraid of most things, that I discount most peoples opinions, that physical beauty is not all that matters to me, that I expect people to accept me for who I am...
Maybe I'll figure it out someday.
Or maybe I'll stop skinning my knees. | 
