Banged my hand, a little while later I noticed a small twinge on the last
knuckle of my right ring finger, the finger I broke right before junior year.
A long time ago; a little before we re-established contact for the first time.
Life throws us, marks us, and there's not much we can do to prevent that.
Is that beauty or tragedy? Or both? And why are the two so closely related?
What do you think?
s , e k
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You can just barely write with a pen when you break that finger. Broke it playing
Capture the Flag after an Uncle's funeral with my younger cousins...guess my family
hasn't quite worked out that whole mourning thing.
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