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When I was younger (like 4-5) my uncle was pushing me on a swing, the kinds the bigger kids used. Well he turned around to talk to someone and I fell off of the swing. Meanwhile the swing is still swinging, so when I finally get to my knees (not too long after falling) the swing is on it's way back down and meets my face a bit to the left of my mouth. It must've hit me pretty hard because it left a nice scar which, to this day, is still there.
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P.S. Always remember: to forget is a form of suicide. (If I could only remember to forget myself.)
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