Dragging my heels.

And kicking and screaming and just generally reverting back to 5 year old behavior.

Because I don't want summer to be over.


Summer being over means I have to go back to school. Means I have to pack. Means I have to face the fact I haven't taken a modern class since May. And, perhaps most terrifying, means I have to see Kocher.

I. Don't. Wanna.

I don't want to hear that this is how things are going to be. I don't want to hear that another surgery might answer some questions. I don't want to hear that I need to take it a little easier. I don't want to hear that this is unusual. I don't want to hear that no one knows what things might be like 5 years down the road.

For the first time, I just want to hear that things will be okay. That things will get better. That things aren't going to get worse. I know promises like that can't be made, I know there's no crystal ball but for once, I just want a sense that everything will be okay.

This is going to be my first fall semester dancing. I just want to go into it optimistic and excited. The first year in recent memory where I'm not planning for surgery. When living on the 4th floor is only going to suck because the laundry room is in the basement, not because I'll have to haul my crippled ass up all those stairs on crutches.

But there's also whatever is going on with my foot. Stress fracture? Boots and crutches so aren't in style anymore. So far I've had no luck in getting an appointment but just the thought of anything being wrong makes me so sick that, admittedly, I haven't really been trying as hard as I probably should be. For the first time, I just want to go back to school without an injury.


It's reached the point where it's comical. I have a hard time thinking anyone would take me seriously because I'm holding back laughter just writing about it. It's the only way to keep myself from just breaking down.