My Nose Is Just a Metaphor

"When we first met, I thought you were a bit nosey."
"If only! I can’t even pry into my own blurry world."

I used to wear these glasses that kept sliding down my nose, turning the world fuzzy. And every time I'd remind myself that it's not some cosmic shift, just gravity doing its thing. I'd shove them back up, not in a cool, cinematic flick-of-the-finger way though. My style was mostly odd full-hand gestures that I would mercilessly laugh at if I were you.

Eventually, I decided it was time for an upgrade. I ordered a new pair, sleek, stylish, and slightly overpriced. I imagined they'd sit with dignity on my face, but, unfortunately, they too had their quiet rebellion.

And that's when I realized the problem wasn't the glasses but my nose.

My nose is like a neatly paved, perfectly flat road with a bump at the end. I wanted to call it a soft little hill for poetic effect, but if only it had a peak.

Come to think of it, the most uncooperative feature of my face is also sort of a metaphor I can relate to. A nose that refused to grow up as it had second thoughts about adulthood. I can't blame it, really.