Overuse Regret

I recently tweaked my knee somewhere in the outer back of my leg so that now each time I bend it while climbing the stairs a pain starts to glow through me like one of those supernatural, horror movie light bulbs that explode on the porch of an old house filled with many secrets, one being a demon that likes to scare its inhabitants for a while before it decides to move in and take somebody. 

I was just moving some heavy boxes. It wasn’t like I was pushing myself more than I normally would. Though I suppose there was the waiting at the top of the stairs for a few minutes for my heartbeat to leave my ears and my breath to sit down.

And if I’m to be honest, when I felt my knee twinge I did keep climbing, each wince an attempt to climb it out,

and I admit I did do this a few times until all the boxes had been relocated from a neighbor’s porch to my living room.

All you did was walk up and down some stairs and carry heavy boxes, I tell myself. It wasn’t exactly the kind of high-risk situation you tie yourself to and make a YouTube video with. It’s not like you were scaling a bridge to bungie jump for the sake of completing a bucket list made up of all the things you wanted to do and didn’t because they were either too dangerous or too expensive or both. Injury and it’s overseeing parent Impermanence can find me anywhere, anytime.

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