So I'm just standing there, fingers clasped. I do like clasping my fingers, you know. It's a bit unpleasant: my fingers are kind of stiff, thin, bony—ugh, those fingers, you know what I mean.
But everything changes the moment I pick up my phone. I'm somehow pressing like three buttons at once; I don't understand how zoomers stay glued to their phones, it's so inconvenient. And then I hit the wrong button again, and the phone just takes on a life of its own, throws an aqua disco, invites friends over, kicks me out of the house...
I look at my fingers and I don't get it. Now they look just like those of That Dude I designated as the Gold Standard of Normal Fingers. But just ten minutes ago, when I clasped them together, my fingers were thin and disgusting! What the f...? I can tell you for sure—my fingers shrivel up when I clasp them together and need them thick and comfortable, and they unshrive when I'm staring at my phone. They troll me, they mock me, they hate me.
It's a curious mental twist, for sure. What's more likely to happen: my brain finally realizing I don't have skinny fingers, or me stripping That Dude of his title as the Gold Standard of Normal Fingers, since his fingers are the same as mine, and therefore skinny and shitty? The tulpa based on That Dude tells me I've got some fucking nerve.