i used to bite my fingernails when i was nervous. bite away the nerve endings of my nail beds. until they’d bleed. until i was ripping my nail from my finger. a small form of self harm that could go undetected

i was always told it takes 21 days to break a habit. i marked my calendar for the day i could paint my nails. they were heavy with polish and 21 days worth of feelings. looking at them i realized my fingers are crooked. i laugh well shit there goes my hand modeling career

when i had my first girlfriend i trimmed my nails consistently. because i wanted people to assume we were having sex. as if my hyper fixation on my own dead skin mattered to anyone. as if they’d even notice. as if we’re not all trapped in an endless cycle. focusing on the beauty of our own hands that we forget to look at anyone else’s