Don't pick at it!

Ughhhhh!!!! Yet another return to childhood. Yes, I picked a scab, of course I picked a scab. It was there, it itched, i scratched - a natural progression, if I do say so myself. I love how we tell children not to pick but there is not a single adult on the planet that will leave a pimple hanging out on their face when they plan on interacting with society. The scab thing may be less of a temptation for others, but i'm trying to make a point. Of course I'm attempting to make my point as a truly amazing amount of blood is continuing to ooze from the tiny little scab i picked. It should be noted that this "pick" wasn't intentional - not that this means anything in the grand scheme of life; i'm a picker, i'll freely admit it. I merely mention the lack of intent because i was caught unaware when I noticed dried blood on my arm which, of course, i had to wipe off, leading to more bleeding. It apparently (known because I more recently noticed a blood stain on my shirt - now to contemplate whether it's a good or bad thing that my chest, being larger than my stomach, obscured earlier detection) had been bleeding for a while before i noticed the dried blood and started the cycle again...because I picked. I know i'm not supposed to, we all know we're not supposed to, I have biological reasoning for not picking, but it's just so hard to resist. and i'm not so sure that's a commentary on my level of self control. The clincher - it still itches.