Hair

 So, my hair is gone. All I wanted was a trim. But I don’t know how to talk to humans. I get all anxious when doing these sorts of things because I know I can’t talk to humans, and I know the end result. But I went to the same place I went at the beginning of the year because the lady did a tremendous job. It was the first haircut I’ve ever been pleased with. So I went there, and she wasn’t in. I should have left, but I didn’t. So, this guy took me, and I asked for it the exact same way I did with her, albeit with no picture, and he told me it wasn’t a good idea. That it was silly how she cut it. So he cut an inch off and that was it. It took five minutes. It took like half an hour with her. So, I left.

Defeated and unhappy and lacking twenty dollars because I don’t know how to not tip a human being, I decided to go to another place my mother told me about. I asked for it a bit shorter, shaggy, uneven. I even quickly showed her some picture on the cover of a book because I didn’t want to waste her time by flipping through it. It was a nice picture though. It sorta conveyed what I wanted. But she buzzed it. She was too busy worrying about the girl and her highlights next to me that she decided it would be faster to buzz it. I have like an inch of hair now. I thought a trim meant a clean up, not a buzz thing.

I cried for like an hour. If I wanted to pay to be unhappy, then I would have just bought a big thing of booze. I feel like one of my only redeeming qualities is my hair, and I thought making it look nice again would make me happier than I have been. Nope. I’m stuck with this. This lack of thing on top of my head. I vowed to never have it this short again, and now I’m stuck with it, and I feel vulnerable because I don’t have any bangs that can cover me up. I hate my life, and I hate people who don’t listen. I hate myself because of the anxiety that comes from telling someone to work on myself in a positive way. Ugh.

I hate the fact that I look like I’m back in high school. High school was the most unhappy time in my fucking life, and I had no friends and I had no love life, so to physically look like I’m back there makes me feel even worse. I know it’s just fucking hair and that it’ll just fucking grow back, but I just wish something would go right for me for once. I want a magnificent fucking haircut, and I want to be able to talk to people and be laid-back, and I want awesome friends, and I want someone to fucking love me for who I am. And I don’t want the first person I’ve been able to form a connection with and fell for in a very long while to already be moving in with that asswipe.

Fuck. I want to be happy.