I fell down recently and skinned up my knee pretty good. I can't remember the last time I've had a scab like the one I have today. Years I'm sure since my last scab incident. Regardless, I can't help but finger and pry and poke my scab like a five year old would. The temptation to pull it right off is still very alluring as it was back then. There's something about seeing how far I can go before something gets pulled that shouldn't have been pulled. It certainly is a vicious cycle of bleeding, healing, picking and regenerating. I'm defiantly a fan of scars on my legs and arms. I figure it shows character, like natural tattoos.
~picking away
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