I wasn't going to talk about this.

There are a number of things I have trouble with. I'm quick to anger, slow to forgive. I hold on to the past. I cry too easily. I worry constantly. I fall in love at the slightest provocation and at the most inconvenient times. I also have a proud streak that manifests in the strangest ways. 

So I wasn't going to talk about what happened today because it hurts my pride. Because it makes me feel weak and because right now it's keeping me up at night. I wasn't going to talk about it even this afternoon when my friends asked me, but I did then, and it helped, and so I will do it again now and hope that it has the same effect. 

Today I was shopping in the medina and, while trying on a leather jacket in the shop, one of the shop employees started checking the fit on the coat and ended up sliding his hands under my shirt. Most of you who know me know that, if you had asked me how I  would handle this yesterday, I would have said a sucker-punch or maybe knee between his legs. (Add "perhaps a bit too eager for violence" to my list of faults.) Unfortunately I didn't react this way. I froze. I pushed his hands off of me but then I froze. Other employees came in the room. I didn't know what to do so I bought the coat and the bag I'd picked out and I told my friends I needed to get the fuck out of the shop. It really shouldn't surprise any one who knows my friends that they agreed without questions or arguments, that they stayed by my side when I asked them to and gave me water to drink and kept silent when I said that I needed it or that, later, when Beau finally got me to talk about why I was so upset, they comforted me without judgement and had turned my tears into laughter in short order. 

We drank milkshakes and coffee and talked about the sorts of things we usually talk about- variations on a hypothetical situation that tests our friendship and how we'd all handle it. 

I went home and watched bad romantic comedies all of which (oddly) involved female protagonists who, besides having romantic misadventures, are also lawyers. I think the universe, which had been whispering law school, is now actually shouting it. I've only been "graduated" (I technically haven't actually graduated yet I just don't have any more work to do.) for a day, but I feel more certain than ever that law school is what I want to do. (Not just because I think it will make my life more like a romantic comedy, I swear.) 

Tomorrow is my last day in Fes. I will probably cry. I will probably have a hard time fasting when Ramadan starts on Monday and I will probably take a long time to feel as tough as I want to feel again. But, as upset as I am, as angry at myself as I will be no matter what any one tells me otherwise, I am feeling better than I have in a long time. I think I know what I want to do next. I know for sure that I have people in my life who love me and who I can count on. I am going to the ocean in two days and I will spend the next week doing nothing but swimming. And, as I suppose was rather predictable, I am finally feeling like I might sleep. Goodnight.