Confessions of a Third Grade Nail Biter

I’m nervous.

I’ve read lots of books that give me mental tricks and strategies for pushing these nagging thoughts to the side.

But the nervousness just seems to follow me around.

I bite my nails. I’m trying to stop. Been trying for… ummm. 20 years?

It all started back in third grade. Jonathan had these trading cards. They were all kinds of different creatures, like lizards and bugs and duck-billed platypusses.

He also had a robotic arm at his house. I envied this deeply.

Jonathan’s father was a scientist. His mother only had one arm.

He was a good buddy and he got me hooked on bugs and biting my nails.

My parents did that thing. “Where did you learn that?”

I learned it from Jonathan.

Anyway, we drifted apart but I’m still a nerd and he probably is too.

I just wish I could stop being so nervous all the time.

It’s getting better. The books, the strategies. I’ll get there someday, I know I will.

That’s what I like about life. The feeling of hope. It’s not always visible, it is often tucked behind a cloud.

But for the time being, it’s still there. I hope it stays.