Umbrageous.
Well, now I feel stupid.
I'm laid out in my bed, leg propped up, ice pack on it, and super embarrassed.
I suspect it is time to put the damn bike away.
I finally left the apartment this afternoon to meet my geo lab group at the library. We complained because the woman who set up the meeting didn't show up, but we pretty much finalised everything. We parted ways, and I went to get my bike. I remember a big puddle of water over which I rode carefully- silly really since it wasn't cold enough to be frozen. Then I went out onto Osborne where there were no cars or anything out and I realised it was a great day for a bike ride. Then I was thinking about something else, I don't even know what, when I decided to take a left turn and go between two buildings.
I kind of remember that the turn wasn't going to be tight enough.
And that there were some park benches coming up really fast.
And that I was going to biff it bad.
And biff it I did.
The next thing I remember is being sprawled out on the ground, blood pounding in my ears, vision all wobbly. Somehow I managed to keep my glasses on, but my phone and chapstick flew out of my pocket quite a ways. I also writhed on the ground for a bit, not really crying but making a lot of noise without tears. My leg would bend, so that was good, but it hurt more than I have hurt in the near past. My bike seemed alright. I finally pushed myself to my feet, grimacing and moaning, and picked up my bike, walking stiffly toward my apartment.
Someone walked by on the other side of the street, I remember, but he was pointedly not looking in my direction. And a car was parked down the street with someone in the passenger seat. When I walked past them they had to have seen how much pain I was in. But I didn't cry, oh no. I walked the half mile or so to my apartment without any tears.
That is, until I was nearly back to the buildings when I saw someone come out of eleven. Who but who could it be, but Brett. I kept my head down until we drew close, then I willed my weak leg to stop twitching. I probably looked like shit. I noticed his wonderfully full bottom lip was chapped. He asked me what had happened, and I shakily tried to tell him.
And then I started crying.
Dammit.
I wasn't sure what I was saying but I know I said something about my forehead, which is a little scraped up. He touched my massive goose egg, apologising if it hurt when he did. I was giddy enough to notice - he actually touched me! - but I felt sick, stiff, and sore. I said I was going to go home and take a nap.
I locked up my bike, stumbled in the door, and knocked, out of the mood to dig for my keys. Krysta let me in and seemed somewhat genuinely worried when I limped in. I explained what happened as well as I could, dropped off my bag, took off my coat and shoes, peeled off my jeans, and pulled off my leggings I was wearing underneath.
At first glance it seemed okay. I was scraped up a bit.
But then, like an optical illusion, I realised that- holy fuck, my thigh is huge,
I may have cried some more.
I put on some gym shorts I have and stumped out to the kitchen for an ice pack. I showed Krysta.
I then called mom and cried at her. She put my fears to rest. I knew it couldn't have been broken, how could I have walked if it was?
Then Stevan texted.
"Hey guys, you can come over whenever. We could even get something to eat."
Ugh. Chemistry. I forgot. "Listen... could you possibly come over here...?"
But that was sometime in the three o clock hour. It's now a quarter after six and while still being quite swollen, and starting to bruise a slight bit, it bends, I can stump around, and I feel okay. My forehead is huge, and I was worried when I got up and moved around, I felt nauseous. But then I only ate some leftover macaroni and some toast before taking my ibuprofen, and painkillers are famous for making me ill. I poured myself some orange juice and laid back down, and now I feel far better.
So Chem Supplemental instruction is in two hours. I really should go, it's rather important, but I'm tired, I'm sore, and I don't know the bus schedule for Sunday nights other than once in never they come by. SI is in Carver, which is way the fuck across campus. I think I'll make Stevan go and then study with me tomorrow before the exam. All I want to do tonight is some online stuff and maybe go over to Brett's to show off my swollen leg, watch "Lennon Naked" (whether he wants to or not) and explain why I didn't go to the party last night.
See, I was supposed to go, but I didn't. I was confused. I wanted to tell him how I felt, not spend the evening with drunk people I barely know. I don't want to rush anything, but given how I notice his lips and how perfect his hair is shaped even when I feel passing out, I kind of think I need to do something, you know? But then again, I don't know. It's just... I don't know.
My head hurts.
Umbrageous : Filled with Shade. Said it was a synonym of bruised. I suppose I see it... not really.
I'm laid out in my bed, leg propped up, ice pack on it, and super embarrassed.
I suspect it is time to put the damn bike away.
I finally left the apartment this afternoon to meet my geo lab group at the library. We complained because the woman who set up the meeting didn't show up, but we pretty much finalised everything. We parted ways, and I went to get my bike. I remember a big puddle of water over which I rode carefully- silly really since it wasn't cold enough to be frozen. Then I went out onto Osborne where there were no cars or anything out and I realised it was a great day for a bike ride. Then I was thinking about something else, I don't even know what, when I decided to take a left turn and go between two buildings.
I kind of remember that the turn wasn't going to be tight enough.
And that there were some park benches coming up really fast.
And that I was going to biff it bad.
And biff it I did.
The next thing I remember is being sprawled out on the ground, blood pounding in my ears, vision all wobbly. Somehow I managed to keep my glasses on, but my phone and chapstick flew out of my pocket quite a ways. I also writhed on the ground for a bit, not really crying but making a lot of noise without tears. My leg would bend, so that was good, but it hurt more than I have hurt in the near past. My bike seemed alright. I finally pushed myself to my feet, grimacing and moaning, and picked up my bike, walking stiffly toward my apartment.
Someone walked by on the other side of the street, I remember, but he was pointedly not looking in my direction. And a car was parked down the street with someone in the passenger seat. When I walked past them they had to have seen how much pain I was in. But I didn't cry, oh no. I walked the half mile or so to my apartment without any tears.
That is, until I was nearly back to the buildings when I saw someone come out of eleven. Who but who could it be, but Brett. I kept my head down until we drew close, then I willed my weak leg to stop twitching. I probably looked like shit. I noticed his wonderfully full bottom lip was chapped. He asked me what had happened, and I shakily tried to tell him.
And then I started crying.
Dammit.
I wasn't sure what I was saying but I know I said something about my forehead, which is a little scraped up. He touched my massive goose egg, apologising if it hurt when he did. I was giddy enough to notice - he actually touched me! - but I felt sick, stiff, and sore. I said I was going to go home and take a nap.
I locked up my bike, stumbled in the door, and knocked, out of the mood to dig for my keys. Krysta let me in and seemed somewhat genuinely worried when I limped in. I explained what happened as well as I could, dropped off my bag, took off my coat and shoes, peeled off my jeans, and pulled off my leggings I was wearing underneath.
At first glance it seemed okay. I was scraped up a bit.
But then, like an optical illusion, I realised that- holy fuck, my thigh is huge,
I may have cried some more.
I put on some gym shorts I have and stumped out to the kitchen for an ice pack. I showed Krysta.
I then called mom and cried at her. She put my fears to rest. I knew it couldn't have been broken, how could I have walked if it was?
Then Stevan texted.
"Hey guys, you can come over whenever. We could even get something to eat."
Ugh. Chemistry. I forgot. "Listen... could you possibly come over here...?"
But that was sometime in the three o clock hour. It's now a quarter after six and while still being quite swollen, and starting to bruise a slight bit, it bends, I can stump around, and I feel okay. My forehead is huge, and I was worried when I got up and moved around, I felt nauseous. But then I only ate some leftover macaroni and some toast before taking my ibuprofen, and painkillers are famous for making me ill. I poured myself some orange juice and laid back down, and now I feel far better.
So Chem Supplemental instruction is in two hours. I really should go, it's rather important, but I'm tired, I'm sore, and I don't know the bus schedule for Sunday nights other than once in never they come by. SI is in Carver, which is way the fuck across campus. I think I'll make Stevan go and then study with me tomorrow before the exam. All I want to do tonight is some online stuff and maybe go over to Brett's to show off my swollen leg, watch "Lennon Naked" (whether he wants to or not) and explain why I didn't go to the party last night.
See, I was supposed to go, but I didn't. I was confused. I wanted to tell him how I felt, not spend the evening with drunk people I barely know. I don't want to rush anything, but given how I notice his lips and how perfect his hair is shaped even when I feel passing out, I kind of think I need to do something, you know? But then again, I don't know. It's just... I don't know.
My head hurts.
Umbrageous : Filled with Shade. Said it was a synonym of bruised. I suppose I see it... not really.