everybody hates a tourist
ive came to the realization over the years that scars and those situations nessesary to obtain them are only a part of life marking the body in proof of stories that sometimes dont need to be spoken but only seen. it seems that i will have lots of stories for those back home, for to add to the collaboration of wounds recieved since ive been here: the deeply infected gash on my foot from the roofing shingle, the slice on my hand from filleting those fish that has rendered my thumb less than perfect in movement, and now the split in my brow from an unknown occurance last night while heinously inebriated, rambling the streets of Las Olas's nightclubs. it will be shown the same medical attention as the others, which is probably little more than a dose neosporin. im gettin beat up to say the least.