I jumped on my counter to grab my travel mug from the top of my cabinet shelf. I had the cabinet door open, miscalculated my jump, and stabbed myself on my side with the sharp cabinet corner. I had a big gash and scratch that surprisingly bled out. I literally curled up in fetal position on my counter screaming in agony like a little baby for a good 10 minutes alone in my apartment.
As I waited for the endorphines to kick in, two thoughts came to mind:
1. I pray to GOD I never get stabbed by a knife cause that would really hurt
2. at this moment, I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE GRATEFUL FOR MY LOVE HANDLES AND THE PROTECTIVE LAYER OF FAT THEY GIVE ME.
[story of my life]
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