scar stories


I have two scar stories. The first one’s about how some guy in second grade pushed me in a rose bush and said that was his way of dumping me (He’s a cop now — talk about atonement, good sir!). The second one’s from high school, when I covered a desk chair with broken coffee mugs (my mom was pissed, btw).

When my art teacher told me to rework it during a critique, I was like, “Sure thing!” It was about a minute after ripping hot-glued shards of ceramic off plastic when I sliced my knuckle open. My art teacher was like, “You’ll be fine,” as blood pooled on the floor. A week later, the school nurse told me I should’ve gotten stitches.

So, kudos to Margarita Sampson, who is smart enough to create whimsical chair embellishments that won’t cause physical (OR EMOTIONAL) harm.

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