Today, I started thinking on scars. Don't ask me why, but I started thinking of having to list them, like in a police description. And then I thought about the differences between me and a perfect clone.
Again, it's been one of those days.
So I thought of the scar on the back of my right hand that I got from when my dad's bike fell on me when I was little, and part of the seat frame cut my hand.
The scars at my clavicle and between my eyebrows from when I had chicken pox.
The series of holes running up my left leg from my foot to the back of my knee from being run over by a lawn aerator.
The other scars in my hands from accidentally cutting my self with glass and knives. Especially the time I almost cut the tip of my thumb off while slicing lemons.
Some scars that I noticed were gone: the one on my knee from tripping while running as a kid and the one on my leg from when I walked into the car muffler as a kid.
Then I had to laugh because I remembered the biggest distinguishing features for me: four big Superman "S" tattoos on my back.