I am sitting here among 50 other students. Many of them are wearing business casual clothes, and many have perfectly groomed hair. Some have on t-shirts and jeans. Probably none of them are covered in bruises, but I am. As I look down at my hands, I see 7 recent cuts. None are bad, they’re all surface scratches, but all bled. Both of my legs, from the very top of my hips all the way down to the top of my feet, are spotted with dark bruises. My arms are sore, and my left hip and butt cheek are tender.

No, I’m not abused. I climb in the rafters of my warehouse. I run and jump. I hoop and I spin fire, and play with staffs (staves, but I hate that word).

I wonder sometimes how I’m ever going to deal with being in such a mainstream profession, because I hope to never NOT have bruises like this. I hope to always do fun stuff that’s a little dangerous and a whole lot of crazy.

As a side note, even the “freaks” in this school are starting to become mainstream. This makes me sad.