Scraped knees and bruised arms – like a fair, noble knight, I wear these scars. Every day picking at the hardened, scaly scabs, hoping to draw out blood. Despite Mother’s constant nagging and monitoring, I find my way outside on the playground, slipping through the cracks, unseen, into the world brimming with sights and smells of the world. Children are free, though they are not the tamest of sorts, and are social butterflies. We live life chaotically in order to have adventures of pure imagination, while surviving realities. Unfortunately, this carefree attitude, this life of carelessness and endless possibilities, doesn’t actually play out in the adult world. The stubborn and reckless child in me, the untamed, wild spirit with no conscience eventually became my demise. It only took tragic game of drunken Chinese Fire Drill for me to realize that Mother was always right. She always said, “Stay seated, or else you’ll be fighting for your life.”