Almost Broken

When you smash your finger with a hammer you will at once feel an all encompassing pain. When you try to make a fist your finger will tremble and you won’t be able to make it stop trembling. You’ll tell yourself it’s fine. You’ll move it to make sure you can still move it and then the pain will be expected. Tolerable.

Hours later, after you’ve been careful not to move it. Your finger will begin to swell. And after it swells it will begin to change colors. You will see the swelling and the blood gathering to the point of impact underneath the pink skin of your fingertip.

And after awhile you’ll adapt. You’ll type with nine fingers instead of ten. And you’ll put ice to stop it from swelling more.

Because accidents happen. Sometimes to us, sometimes by us.

I once saw a kitten. I picked the kitten up. I nuzzled the kittens tummy. I named it. I claimed it. And then I couldn’t breath.

I’m allergic to cats.

Some things are just toxic to us. Some things we can’t co-habitat with.

Why am I telling you all this?

For no reason. Because I’m practicing typing with a finger I thought was broken. Because when I initially hit it, I thought for sure, beyond a doubt, the finger was broken. But I was wrong.

I’m wrong about a lot of things.