Nail Paint Chips Are Not Tasty
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
My fingernails offer the best insight into my life. So, if you're with me notice them, without pointing them out to me. You'll know a lot more about my frame of mind. The answer to that hundred dollar question, "Is everything okay?" can be found in my fingers.
If you're with me and you notice that my nails are cut, well groomed and painted, know it's because I had time on my hands and decided to spend it to enhance my narcissism. Don't for a minute think it's because I'm meeting you, interested in you or wanted to impress you. My nails are more selfish than the collective genealogical family of felines in the world today. If they're long and painted, know I've been spending my time sleeping and being extremely chilled out or too busy. They'll never be long-ish if I want them to be. If you're a bass player slash any other musician, chances are you'll see me then and judge me, because it is not expected off bass players to have long finger nails.
If you find me in class/meeting, I'm obsessively fiddling with my fingers. Tearing the slivers of the skin, near the nail rapidly as my mind is running around in tight compartments. I'm extremely anxious and halfway bored with what you're saying to me/someone else and I believe that causing pain to my skin would be a better way to stay awake and in the room than to actually meet your eyes. I'm also giving my stress a rest when I'm fiddling with my fingers, obsessively. It's the only way I know where I can challenge my stress and quickly move on the next thing.
If you find me with chipped nail paint and nails all chewed, my apologies. I didn't mean to offer you this sight. There's a possibility of an upcoming (and ignored) deadline, work pressure, lack of initiative on my part due to some terrible things around me. If you find this stage three months at a stretch, it's possibly almost depression.
Bonus tip, if you see me in pyjamas at 7 pm on a Wednesday, know for sure that you ought to stay away from me if you'd like for us to be close friends. Also, asking me if I'm okay does not help. Look at the finger nails, you'll know the level fluctuation between whether I need a hug, a pack of double fried french fries and another hug or if you need to stay away and bring dinner over (those two should happen together).
It's a task, being my friend. But someone's gotta do it.
If you're with me and you notice that my nails are cut, well groomed and painted, know it's because I had time on my hands and decided to spend it to enhance my narcissism. Don't for a minute think it's because I'm meeting you, interested in you or wanted to impress you. My nails are more selfish than the collective genealogical family of felines in the world today. If they're long and painted, know I've been spending my time sleeping and being extremely chilled out or too busy. They'll never be long-ish if I want them to be. If you're a bass player slash any other musician, chances are you'll see me then and judge me, because it is not expected off bass players to have long finger nails.
If you find me in class/meeting, I'm obsessively fiddling with my fingers. Tearing the slivers of the skin, near the nail rapidly as my mind is running around in tight compartments. I'm extremely anxious and halfway bored with what you're saying to me/someone else and I believe that causing pain to my skin would be a better way to stay awake and in the room than to actually meet your eyes. I'm also giving my stress a rest when I'm fiddling with my fingers, obsessively. It's the only way I know where I can challenge my stress and quickly move on the next thing.
If you find me with chipped nail paint and nails all chewed, my apologies. I didn't mean to offer you this sight. There's a possibility of an upcoming (and ignored) deadline, work pressure, lack of initiative on my part due to some terrible things around me. If you find this stage three months at a stretch, it's possibly almost depression.
Bonus tip, if you see me in pyjamas at 7 pm on a Wednesday, know for sure that you ought to stay away from me if you'd like for us to be close friends. Also, asking me if I'm okay does not help. Look at the finger nails, you'll know the level fluctuation between whether I need a hug, a pack of double fried french fries and another hug or if you need to stay away and bring dinner over (those two should happen together).
It's a task, being my friend. But someone's gotta do it.
0 comments