I recently read an article about why I should get a nose job. It was written by an illustrious Instagram influencer who had recently undergone the knife. I imagine she had regurgitated the same spiel in defence of her new honker over and over to probing quibblers until she finally threw up her hands in frustration and told them they can find the damn-link-in-bio.

I’ve gone to a lot of weddings by myself. I rock up to the church in four inch heels and my parent’s minivan, toting a gift I hope they actually want. I sneak in the back and sit next to someone I vaguely know, inevitably cry during the wedding vows, and then afterwards, in the lobby, sip punch and turn on my best girl-flirting (ohmygoshyoulooksogoodwheredidyougetyourdress?!).

You’re teetering on the edge of the wooden dock, hands clutched beneath your chin, shivering, squealing, trying to muster the courage to jump into the frigid water. In truth, it’s not the water that you fear, what you want to postpone is the initial shock of cold that launches through your body upon first submerging. You know that in a few minutes you will be fine, but oh that dreaded icy shock.

That’s what “putting yourself out there” feels like.

I once had a friend who would look knowingly at me during moments of happiness and ask, “How do you feel, Katrina?” I’d smile and always reply, “I feel infinite”. I hope you’ve felt this. It’s the feeling you get when you’re driving on the highway at dusk, night slowly falling, a song on the radio about youth or being in love. You think of nothing ahead or behind but the moment seems to stretch on indefinitely and you let out a little shriek because it feels like your soul is going to burst.