The prompt: Define a klutz.
” I am physically in capable of walking in a straight line. Nor do I have the ability to walk the halls of school without tripping on air. I blame myself and only myself for my lack of gracefulness since my mother always calls me out on my accident-prone lifestyle. She tries to help, but it is a lost cause. So now as a result I will always be called a klutz.
The most pathetic part of my existence it the fact that I have crossed the line between clumsiness and klutz. Almost everyone on the planet is clumsy. Every person has some horror story of losing their balance while walking on the side walk or running into the wall while looking talking to someone behind them. But I am the extreme. Klutzes have an excessive amount of these experiences, and not only do they continually occur they are much more dramatic.
Admit it, you have tripped on the stairs before. Going either up or down a floor, you misjudge the distance between the stair you are on and the next one causing a two second panic attack. You quickly grab the railing and all is good. But when I trip on the stairs, you can believe it is much more than losing my footing. To add to being a klutz, I have an amazing lack of reflex skills. So I don’t realize my body is hurling toward the ground until my face is several inches from the ground. I then try to stretch during those imperative few seconds between flight and impact. My arm then becomes crushed under the weight of my body causing pain to shoot up my wrists. And considering arms are not very good landing pads, I fling sideways into the wall and crush the glasses that sit on my face. True story.
Klutzes are the people you feel sorry for. So, I don’t mind if you feel sorry for me, because I feel sorry for myself. My scars are not from some heroic experience but from my own stupidity. Just don’t feel sorry for people who clumsy because, to be honest, they have it easy. They get bruises, I get lacerations.
Klutzes have two left-feet. They unwillingly have to watch their feet while they walk to be sure a random cloud of dust won’t suddenly interfere with their balance. And God-for-bid they try walk on an escalator because that is just a recipe for distaster.
I am the epitome of a klutz. It’s sad I know. But at least I entertain the evil humor of everyone who watches my careless disasters.
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