My fingers love to roam. Tugging on strands of hair and feeling for edges on blankets and pillows… Sometimes they are destructive and I feel nails against my skin, picking and scratching as though I can rub my skin new and smooth. But the more I do it, the worst it gets. It leaves behind scars and wounds. It’s the worst when my hands find my lips. Chapped from neglect and abused by my fingertips.