Perfectly Manicured Nails

Categorically speaking, I don’t like categories because they are only about different ways of being, and not, offering much of anything about not being.

One of the greatest signs of social immaturity is those breezy friendships that come and go fast. These encounters shape in happy moments and get dismissed in a blink of an eye in great insouciance. Categorically speaking, I’m not prejudging anyone here … I’m bluntly and shamelessly judging them … as these once-idealistic friendships steadily and rapidly deteriorate into a ceaseless cycle of bickering because those individuals strive to retain their egocentricity in this conformity-obsessed world of picket fences and perfectly manicured nails.

I almost never make myself subject to i-am-dying-for-you-and-can’t-live-without-you friendships and wait for a long time. So much so that I have been at times perceived as arrogant. The “wait” isn’t about making a decision, it is about acceptance. The acceptance of all that I can bear in another person I’m about to call “a friend”. But that’s me: a guy who keeps finding himself on the wrong side of social equilibrium …

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