Different

I have painted my nails six times in my life. That I remember, at least... the last time was two days ago.

[Black. Why not?
My mom did, of course, call me a devil worshiper.
She was kidding.
But seriously.
Thanks, Mutti.]

The time before that was in ninth grade.
Oh, wait.
Tenth grade.

[Purple. With a hint of sparkle.]

Oh, ps: I really wish I was ambidextrous, let me tell you...

Anyway, I couldn't really tell you what happened. I just felt this great desire to paint my nails. So I did. I had to actually go out and buy nail polish. No big deal. But still. It was just... weird. I think, however, it was because I simply wanted something different. A change. Subtle. But desperately needed. Besides, I knew that if I didn't like it or want it anymore, I could just take it off. Easy.

I like that.

Retouch.
Redo.
Get rid of.
Change.

No consequences.
No regrets.
No tears.

Simple.