There’s just something so tempting about picking your scabs.
Maybe it’s because they sort of brown, harden, and crisp up, and end up looking like small, bumpy countries on the side of a topographical map. You just can’t help but play God, cracking up the coastline, slowly twisting the island around, or just ripping the whole thing off in one painful shot.
I mean sure, it might sting a bit. But check out that brand new skin underneath. All flaky and pink, ready and waiting for whatever this great big world has to offer. Even if it offers another round of rollerskating without kneepads on a gravel driveway.
Yes, picking scabs is a sweet guilty release — like twisting your tongue into your loose baby teeth, popping big zits in the center of your cheeks, or dropping hot farts underneath the sheets.
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