It’s terrifying to live this way, to have your faith and naiveté crushed in one violent instant. To be truly certain, deep in your bones, that nothing can protect you. That tragedy can strike any one of us at any second. But maybe it’s liberating, too. Because if you believe that you can ensure you own good luck by praying, or eating salads, or surrounding yourself with the right crystals, then it holds that people make their own bad luck, too. It’s scary here on the other side. Most people don’t want to join me, and I don’t blame them. I miss that feeling of comfort and certainty about the future that I used to have. But I can’t go back.