I looked down at my now broken fingernail, the last one on my left hand.
And I thought,
it was more than a fingernail.
It was, to me, the last sentience of wholeness in a time when my life felt like it was a thousand shards of broken glass spewing in a thousand different directions after a thousand anticlimactic droppings of a delicate vase;
Because how detrimental were they to anything else but my own clouded mind?
