My Sermon: Anger Towards Inanimate Objects

Standing between the teenage female and the completion of her beauty routine is the rigorous work put into manicuring one’s nails. Oh wondrous nail polish, you are my savior and my punisher. You frustrate me with your effortless appearance that in fact takes countless hours to complete. How I wish I could hurl you at the wall in a mess of glittering pink and fairy dust gold, like an aesthetic Picasso painting. Constantly enraged am I with the disastrous results you yield. I long to yell and scream in a dance of fury that I know you will not respond to. You have regretted to consider my feelings and are unskillful at the simple job you hold. All you must do is compliment my outfit and jewelry, yet you do not seem capable of this. You and I have an overt dilemma of the highest degree. Can thou be tamed? I suspect this task will be as complex as your stunning, vibrant hues.

You are my mortal enemy and favorite cosmetic accessory. You adhere to my nails and glop up in a puddle of glossy rain. If I apply too much of you, you drip onto my carpet, creating perpetual mud puddles of pastels and neons. I screech with rage as I stomp off to retrieve a sponge to clean up your masterpiece of a mess. I scrub your remains into the carpet until my hands are raw but yet there you stay. You are a pool of filth, murky and deep, on my floor. This is not your only fault, for there are countless others.You deceive me by appearing dry. However, when prodded with my thumb, you spill across my cuticles in a flood of color.  My hands are stained with your crimson color as though I have killed you. On my nails my polish is a hideous mess of fingerprints in mud. Tis time to clean you once again from the slate of my nails. We must begin again, my friend, in hopes that you appear far more neat with a second try. Your scent is as putrid as the forthcoming rain. The aroma swells in a nauseating cloud, carrying gut-wrenching chemical smells in its wake. I feel our relationship has reached an end, unless thou can take penance for those sins.


Thou, my nail polish, must correct your stubborn ways in order to remain part of my beauty routine. To redeem yourself, you must dry in time for me to complete daily activities. You must be as dry as when the sun shines through the clouds and the rain is no more. I demand you revise your sloppy ways. As for staining my clothes and carpet, you may not. Do not drip with a loud plop onto my belongings. Thou should look as pristine as the reflection from a clear puddle.You shall do me no good until I am able to see my own delicate features in your smooth surface. Lastly, you shall not uphold such a foul stench as to utterly appall me in your presence. Content I will be if you carry a perfume of lovely rosebuds or maybe even of fresh linen. Mend your ways, my dear friend, and we shall both benefit.

However, refusing to meet my requests will bring your demise. If you are to continue being the stubborn entity I call nail polish, I shall rid you from my life. You will meet the frigid bottom of my trash can with a satisfying splat. It will be the end of you. Amongst all the other worthless items you will lie, considering your penitence for your sins. In the dark depths of despair you will long for my warmth. There will be no one there to enjoy your bold hue and gleaming brilliance. In this situation I am sure you will never feel the same joy as you did with me. But if thou would kindly adhere to my requests, thou will be saved. I do not believe that I propose such outrageous demands that you cannot meet them.



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