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.