I cut off all my hair in November.
It's just hair. It doesn't make that
much of a difference to who you are. He said.
But he doesn't know.
I am so tired of being what everyone expects of me.
I cut off my hair. And now I talk in
class, and I drink
beer, and I hang out with
friends.
I can't sleep.
I don't sleep.
I'm not so beautiful anymore.
Although, I do get laid more.
It's not always what the surface shows.
I wasn't just cutting off my hair.
I was getting out of my skin.
Running away from myself.
And I'm getting farther and farther but I don't know
if it's better
or worse.