I bite my fingernails. Not all of the time, but some of the time, and I agree that it's gross. So did Gwynne, my brief girlfriend in 8th grade, who was tall and blonde and thin and just loved kissing. She told me if I didn't stop biting my nails she would break up with me.
I quit it for her, but only until the Halloween Eve when she broke up with me anyway, right after the scary hay ride, right after I was certain I might get a handjob. That night I chewed them down to the wick.
I get a pretty good reading on my life by looking at my nails. If I am in need of a nail file, things are probably pretty good. But when I can't keep them out my mouth, I know I am in trouble. Trust me, I find me more disgusting than you find me. No one can possibly out-roast me better than me.
But I don't think I am alone in this, with these little secrets. Some, like the one I have just shared, is just something stupid, not terribly revealing on the surface, but it's significant enough to me to have angst about admitting it at all.
What might life be like if we could all just say out loud everything we felt? This is what I dont like about myself. This is what I dont like about you. This is why I broke up with you. This is why I am angry. This is why I love you. This is why I am jealous. This is why I feel like being alone. This is why, that is why, you are why.
Can we go our whole lives not knowing the people we love, but thinking we do? And once we learn their secrets, do we love them more, or less? I wonder.
I wonder, given a world devoid of secrets, repression, dishonesty and fear, would it be easier for us to understand and accept one another? Is there any harm in not knowing; in believing a beautiful lie? Or would chaos ensue?
Does the truth matter? Yes, I believe it does, and I wish we all got more of it, more often. I wish the price of admission were not set so high.
I want the truth from people, but of course I don't want it all the time. I want it carefully architected, and I understand that can take time. And it takes trust. But when I get it, and it hear it and I know it's real, then I will reward them with everything I have for, well, for basically loving me enough to tell me.
The truth is a gift, wrapped in a burden.
