I started peeling away the black nail polish at 1:30 this morning, with the voracity of a prepubescent boy entertaining his first hard on. It was as involuntary as my sobbing over the past eight months. For the past 30 days, I piled layer upon layer of the thick, black goop on my nails; It was protective and profound and persistent.
But I think the meds are working.
I think my thoughts are gaining positive momentum.
I think my heart is healing.
Trump is still president but I see potential, in myself, so I paint my nails gold today and throw away the congealed bottle of black nail polish.