a love letter to nail painting

a friend of mine asked me if i wanted my nails painted. i had never been asked
this before so casually -- this felt like a very normal question, and i
struggled to figure out if i actually wanted to or not, but before i could
decided and come to a firm thought-out decision, i figured, it's harmless, why
not?

after my nails were painted, i carefully picked things up as if my nails were
made of glass, making sure not to rub them on things, it was something that had
to be done, these nails were fucking divine, and you do not want to piss off
your diety.

i kinda fell asleep on my friend's couch after, i was taught that if you do them
at night before bed, then the next day when you shower or wash your hands, all
of the mess on your skin just comes off, and they look fucking perfect, so i
went along with it.

after i woke up, i fucking saw my hands, dark teal or some blueish greenish
color, definitely more blue than green, but fuck it was so cool to wake up to my
hands like this. they even matched a cartigan i had gotten from a thrift store
recently. they looked too good.

ever since, i had thought about them, and finally caved and decided to buy some
cheap ass nail polish and top coat. but i started off with a really bland matted
top coat instead of a noticeably flashy one -- i was afraid they would be too
noticeable in retrospect. later, i was honest with myself, i wanted that glossy
finish, with less of a green color, and something more fun. i bought more colors
and experiment with them, the glossy top coat that looked fucking great, and
eventually, a fuckin oil slick pink that looked like some absolute alien
technology when you move your fingers in the sun.

i let myself continue to do it, absolutely making it one of my new hobbies, but
it felt different from a hobby, it felt like something that i would love to make
a me thing, something that i cherish.

this "hobby" taught me to be honest with myself, it taught me to let myself do
things i enjoy without others stopping me or making me feel bad about. i no
longer needed to abide by their terms or mean comments or their stares. i could
experience joy, with what my child self would call a "force field" to deflect
any comments at me, back into the universe.

i was freed from feeling bad about doing the things i want to do, the things
that gave me happiness. i upset people when i painted my nails, and that showed
me who cared about my happiness, and who didn't. it wasn't a new hobby or a big
political act, it was just an act of joy, which contributed to a ripple effect
in my life. it showed me where i wanted to go, and it showed me that i went, and
that i coul do it, and that there are so many other places that joy can take me.

it all happened because i let myself do the thing that made me joy. i did the
thing i wanted to do.

it let me discover the things i want in life, which are joy, and joy that i can
share with people i love.

nail painting lets me experience joy by myself, without needing other people,
and nail painting together, with friends, lets me share my joy with my friends,
whether it's because they think it's silly or funny to paint your nails, or
because it just gives them a smile and an environment to do the most wonderful
thing you can experience in life: talking about anything or nothing with your
friends.

p.s. friend, thank you for asking me if i wanted to paint my nails that one
time. any time i spend with you is considered the opposite of wasting time in
life.