I used to avoid mirrors. Instead of focusing on the movement of my eyeliner over the period of the day, I would focus on my nails. How long they grew, the pleasure of people constantly asking me to scratch their arms, and heads, and beards. The satisfaction of whipping a bad itch right out of existence in a matter of a millisecond.
     However, over the period of the last year or so, my nails have slowly started to deteriorate. They peel off, not sometimes... but constantly, in weak layers. Hardly ever do I have nails that are longer than the edge of my tender nail bed, which is now often somewhat exposed, making the tips of my fingers slightly sore as I sit and type. Sometimes I sincerely miss the way my nails would grow, long and even and healthy. Opening cans easily, drunkenly scratching kevins beard until his eyes healed shut. I miss my ability to almost always be able to open anything, running the tips of my long nails along the packaging grooves until I could peel it open. Tedious things like this often frustrate me now; not simply because I no longer have the ability and advantage to grow beautiful, strong nails... but also because it's quite an accurate metaphor for the deterioration of my body over the same period of time.

       I sort of wonder what comes next, and I sort of don't.