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Three years ago, I broke my arm at a Labor Day picnic. I didn't tell anyone how much it hurt--I wanted to seem tough and prove I could shake off the pain. After spending the rest of the afternoon faking smiles and hiding tears, my friends and I left Roosevelt Island. I took out my Metrocard, but my right hand was shaking so badly that I couldn't hold the card up to swipe it. At last, I accepted that the injury was too real to ignore.
4 comments:
Ha. I love this post. Too true.
Thanks.
Something similar happened to me when I was five!--I was at a barbecue and got a huge second-degree burn on my hand from the grill and I didn't tell anyone. haha. oh we may have been friends.
I think we would have been Betsy. The opposite thing happened when I was six too. My sister broke her arm, and a week later I broke mine. My parents didn't believe me...they thought I was just trying to get attention.
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