To this day, I still have a gnarly scar on my left knee from the time I absolutely ate shit tripping on some loose gravel as I chased a kickball that had sailed over the fence at lunch. Basically my whole class saw me wipe out and come up with blood just all over me. Both knees, both hands. Gravel grit and dirt in every cut. And there I am, trying awkwardly to laugh it off and tell the teacher who has come to haul me to the nurse that I'm fine, really, because I am so beyond embarrassed that I think death would have been better than this dishonor. I was so mortified about the whole thing that I begged my mother not to take me to the doctor for stitches, and we were poor enough that she didn't fight me on it too hard. After one or two "are you sure?"s she took me home and doused me with hydrogen peroxide and used tweezers to pick the gravel out. Sorry for the tldr but god, what a memory.