I hate what I did to my nails yesterday.
It started with a seemingly good idea. I punched a whole bunch of stars out of vintage wallpaper.
But instead of taking it all off, I sealed it in with a hearty layer of topcoat (Essie's "No Chips Ahead") and poked and prodded the stars down as they curled up then calmed down in the stickying drying polish.
I don't like myself very much right now, so of course I don't like my nails, and maybe I think I deserve it. The migraines have been better for over two months, and while I'm still in a side-effect stupor, I can do more on a daily basis than I could when I was in pain all the time. Between turning 30 in a few weeks and these new questions of if I'm capable of having a real life again, I realize just how much I don't have a life right now. I'm wasting my time away, and if I'm in pain constantly it's just something I have to learn to accept, but if I'm not in pain, what the hell am I doing? I'm going nowhere and doing nothing and I hate it, but I can't find the motivation to make something of my days. I fight myself enough just to exercise, do the laundry, wash the dishes (and I have a friggin' dishwasher). How do I find the inspiration and the desire to forge a new path, lunge forward, do something real?
Of course I hate my nails.