Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Hold Your Own

Have you ever had a hangnail? On your thumb, ring finger, wherever. And in an attempt to free yourself from the annoyance of free, flailing skin, you made the horrible mistake of ripping it off? But, of course, hangnail's aren't like blades of grass you pull with ease from the dirt. I mean, sure, you can get lucky occasionally, but for the most part they rip much deeper into the skin. And they hurt.

Have you ever had an open sore from a hangnail? On your thumb, ring finger, wherever. And in an attempt to free yourself from the annoyance of constant pain, you made the horrible mistake of applying Hydrogen Peroxide? It's supposed to help your wounds heal, correct? Then, don't mind me asking, why does it never work? All that happens to me is intense stinging for a ridiculously short amount of time. But, depending on the severity of the sore, it's enough to bring you to your knees.

A hangnail, whether you try to fix it with Hydrogen Peroxide or simply let it be, can bother you all day; it can be a boulder thrown upon your sinking boat. A hangnail. Really?

I sat in Chemistry today, and two boys were throwing a small, foamy ball back and forth across the room. One of them happened to be sitting behind me. The ball happened to hit me in the back of the neck.

"Can you get me that ball?" The moron behind me asked, each syllable of his simple question laced with the apparent tone of his superiority.

"No." I said bitterly. "You can get it yourself."

In the past I would have hesitated and given in, leaning far out of my way (possibly exposing the room to my underpants), and delivering the ball into his smirking grasp. Not today.

"Miss Sensitive." He muttered as he got the ball himself.

I'm usually very collected, very calm, very slow to anger. I'm usually the one laughing as friends fight back their embittered fists; but at that moment, if it wouldn't have lead me to look like an utter fool and (for lack of a better word) deuce, I would have turned around and beat him down with raging words he's too dim to understand.

But I didn't.

And that hangnail's been stinging all day.

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I'm a Mormon. I'm a writer. I'm a theatre-enthusiast. I'm an improviser. I'm a cake-decorator. I'm a Jason Mraz fan. I'm a poet. I'm a slob. And I'm happy you're reading.