I painted my nails tonight.
The last time I did that was November 18, 2012. I know this because it was the night of my school's Thanksgiving Dinner, the night I left early, the night I didn't sleep at all because my stomach was (literally, as I now know) in knots.
That night, I was planning on leaving to go to Utila in a week. I was excited for the upcoming break.
And sometimes it feels like that's the point where everything fell apart.
And I know it didn't really fall apart. Things have worked out and are working out and I've been back at school for three and a half weeks and they found the secret cancer and I'm going to Utila tomorrow.
But painting my toenails is scary. Wearing that dress again for the first time was scary. Planning to go to Utila is scary.
Because my brain knows how quickly things can change, how something can go wrong when you least expect it.
But I choose to paint my toenails. And plan on leaving for Utila in the morning. And to move forward, because sometimes things fall apart. But that doesn't mean they can't fall back together.
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