As a baby, once I was on my momma’s arm and she held me while speaking to my granny. I was playfully sticking my arm through a nearby railing when she suddenly turned around to leave after saying goodbye. My shoulder was put out of joint.
As a kid, once I was stupid enough to join my friends in a game of “dodge-stone”. We were throwing stones at each other and those that were thrown at had to dodge them. I hit my best friend with a rock the size of my fist (I had run out of smaller ones) and his skull cracked, he immediately started to bleed heavily. I nearly killed him. He survived but still has a weak point in his skull to this day. Kids are fuckin stupid.
I flew from my bike countless times and still bear the scars of several wounds I got by falling face down on the asphalt.
Once, as a kid, my friends and me climbed some scaffolds at a restricted building site and I fell off one, breaking my arm.
My best friend once nearly put out my eye with a stick he had held into a selfmade campfire and kept poking at me playfully, taunting me with it.
As a really small kid, I once climbed out of my crib and got into the living room while my parents where away. Then I lit the candles on the living room table, because flames are so beautiful and shiny, and accidently toppled them over. As the table cover quickly caught fire, I panicked and ran back to my parents’ room, hiding under the bed. It saved my life because by the time somebody had called the firefighters, nearly all the flat was full of smoke. The whole living room and parts of the hall were burnt, and for the following weeks I had to live with my grandparents.
As a teenager, while playing in the woods near my hometown with my cousin, I unknowingly crossed a poorly designated border to the neighboring troop exercise field, which was scheduled for artillery exercise that day. We were fascinated by all the bullets and empty shells lying around and started looking for trophies when suddenly, shells started hitting a nearby wood, making the ground shake and nearly deafening us with all the noise. We panicked and ran all the way back home, never telling our parents about it. We weren’t hurt in that one, but it was an “accident” all the same, I would think.
One day, I must have been twelve or so, all the kids from my neighborhood started playing in the large garbage containers that a construction firm had put near one of our homes, to collect garbage from a house that was being renovated or something like that.
During play, I stumbled and landed hands first in a breaking glass window. Can’t remember ever having bled so much before or afterwards. A miracle I still have all my fingers.
Upon my first drive with my very own car, right after receiving my driver’s licence, I accidently hit a wall and panicked, driving all the way back home and never even trying to tell the owner of the place.
The police followed shortly after. They had identified my car by bits of glass that had broken off my front lights and had a number engraved in them. Also, nearly two dozens of people had seen me and called the cops on me.
The policeman was from my neighborhood, and knew me and my parents well. He said that the owner of the wall I had hit did not want to be compensated, as there was really no visible damage on the concrete at all, and that since this was my first ride and my first real accident, he would give me a second chance.
There’s much more to tell, but I have to sign out for now.