confession//i sabotaged my perfect nails

Picture it. Sydney. 2015. I had beautiful almond shaped nails. 10 hours later I'd clipped them off. Too long. For 8 weeks I kept my nails groomed and had regular appointments and then I got bored and anxious waiting in a bank so I peeled them off and now my nails are a stupid stumpy mess. I can't have nice things. 

The idea of having a part of me that was consistently well groomed freaked me out. I'm frequently in pyjamas/underwear and I pick at my pimples and for one week I "forgot" to wash and brush my hair. I can't do nice. I can't be well groomed. I can be in the middle somewhere. If by the middle we really mean girls who spend too much money on clothes only to wipe Twisties dust on them. If that's the middle then, yes, I'm there. If not, well where am I? In the gutter?

I can't help it. I like to bite my nails. What is one to do when faced with the looming devastation that is this world? How am I supposed to properly deal with my anxiety if I can't tear at my nails until they're down to the skin and bleeding? I mean... tell me another way why don't you.

I can't be helped. I am inherently hopeless. I am very much a now person. I need things done now and done right or not at all. The same now, obviously, goes for my nails. They are currently short and stumpy and shot to shit but I feel like I fit in. I'm not perpetually polished. My hands don't feel out of place in my holey Miffy shirt anymore. I'm right where I need to be... unpolished and all.

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be nice. unless you can be cake and then always be cake.