I was rushed to the emergency room on Tuesday night by my roommates. Why? Rollerblades. I have no idea how it happened but one moment I was gliding down the street and then next I'm laying next to the curb with my head in my hands.
My true love didn't come save me, I didn't receieve special powers but a married man ran over and offered me a ride from his wife who was about to pick him up. With everything spinning I picked myself up and kindly declined his offer. I then skated/limped the rest of the way home.
My roommates originally laughed. They thought I had just scraped up my knee. They thought I had finally fallen. Everyone had wanted me to fall and I finally did. As I lay on the couch, not really able to see out of my right eye, they became worried, especially when they saw the blood on my forehead. Soon the pain became unbearable and I went to the ER for the second time in my life.
Everyone has made fun of me and my blades. They feel no fear in telling me that it's something from the past and I should quit. Quit? Why would I quit doing something I love? As I lay on the hospital bed I didn't think about how short life is, I thoguht about rollerblading.
Yes, I did bash my head on the concrete and there's a scab on my knee the size of my fist but will that stop me? Heck no! If I love something then there's no stopping me. Quit rollerblading? I think not.
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