I'm No Longer 1/10th Goth

My old fingernail - most of the dried blood has been washed away by this point, so it's not as black as it once was

My awesome black fingernail has finally come off. Hurt from a slash to the finger during a rec league floor hockey game, this blackened fingernail has been a constant companion for about three months. In a way, it's become a part of my identity.

I'm going to miss it.

What I'm not going to miss is these last couple of weeks. The damn thing has been half off for a while, still attached at the tip of my finger but detached near the base of the fingernail and I've been too lazy to cut the detached part down. So it got caught on things a lot, basically whenever I try to take my keys out of my pocket. And it hurt like a bitch.

Over the past three months, plenty of people have wondered if I was wearing nail polish, only to be grossed-out as they got a closer look. Or, as my brother put it, I looked 1/10th goth. I did have fun with it though. I was checking out at the grocery store and the cashier, a small highschool girl, yelled at one of her work colleagues to check out her fancy new fingernail polish (dark with white decorations). I said to her, "You think your fingernails are nice, check out this," and showed her my finger.

"Oh my god, that's disgusting! Why are you showing me that?!"

Now all that is over and I'm left with a malformed partial fingernail for a few more months. So farewell old fingernail. I'll remember you fondly.