One time, during a pickup volleyball game, I decided to channel my inner pro athlete and step up to the net to block a spike. I was ready—at least, I thought I was. The ball soared high into the air, and the opposing player jumped with fierce determination to crush it. I planted my feet, hands up, and mentally prepared for glory. But instead of making the perfect block, I misjudged the speed of the ball entirely. The next thing I knew, I felt a sharp sting and saw a bright flash of light as the volleyball blasted a crater in my face. The sound it made echoed across the gym, and it felt like everyone had stopped playing just to watch my slow-motion disaster unfold. I stumbled backward in a daze, trying to play it cool like nothing happened. Everyone gasped, followed by laughter, which didn’t help my case. I tried to shake it off, but the bright red mark on my forehead made it impossible. My friends still remind me of that day, calling it my “highlight reel moment.” Safe to say, I stic...