I've had a tight chest for three days. My usually hypochondriac mind is trying to tell me I have a heart disease of some kind but I know that's really not the case. Last week I made a pinky promise with my one close friend here at school. It was a pinky promise of a plastic less kitchen, a TV-less world, many aqua Ball Mason jars, a cheese fund, wine, and clean and safe spaces where we could relax our bodies and speak our minds. And I'm ecstatic about all of those things, I really am. At the same time, that pinky promised held a lot more then our little pinkies can actually hold. It means that I've committed to staying here, at the new school, in the new town. I still feel disconnected and unmoored here and now I've obliterated my option to go home.
Maybe the tightness in my chest will dissipate as I learn to accept the choices I've apparently made.
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