I miss my long hair. I feel really sad and unattractive without it. The cut is cute and my stylist is amazing, but cutting my hair didn't fix anything. I don't know why I thought it would. I wish I was a different person. Someone who is confident in all areas of her life, or at least someone who is able to fake it. Someone who is energizing, fun, and uninhibited. Someone who can say no to people, who is okay just being herself without the desire for approval of other people. We allegedly get one life and on the surface mine is incredible. I wonder what kind of haircut I need to get in order to pull those feelings into the deep end?

Sore Loser

My silence is suffocating but expressing myself is a fate with the potential for consequences much worse than that.

What choice do I have but to live laboriously with the deafening screams that only I can hear?
 I want so badly to not feel this way, yet it is the hand I was dealt and the house always wins.
My head knows that the game is rigged but my heart refuses to fold and so I bet again.

I never was any good at gambling.

Love Warrior

I think we can all agree that I am not the self-help-book reading, mushy, love everyone type of person. I am actually the exact opposite. That said, I am just about through the book Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle, and never have I ever read something that has been a mirror reflection of myself, from the way I feel, to the way I think, to the way I behave. Love Warrior  is in no way a self help book. It's one woman's struggle with herself, her identity, how she interacts with the world, and how the world tells her she should interact with it. It is exactly everything that I feel and have ever felt, and I find myself saying "YES. YES!" on almost every page.

I have always, always, always been a self conscious individual. I can remember being 4 years old and not knowing how to act, feeling inferior, incompetent, and painfully out of place. I retreated inside myself and put up this shy shell of an exterior that was "cute" when I was young, but as I aged prevented…

Hug it Out

When I was a kid, probably nine or ten, I told my extended family that I was done hugging them. They were so fucking annoying with their hugging any time anyone farted (this was the example I gave as to why I was through), and I was not okay with that. My aunts and uncles were, of course, offended, and my grandma hugged me anyway, but it was something that was important to me to stop. Why would I hug people so many times like that? Why would I use touch as some weird gesture that meant nothing to me or them?

Fast forward to now, and for the most part those aunts and uncles still don't hug me. My grandmother is long dead, so those have stopped, too. I'm still stingy with my hugs but these days it's due to shitty self esteem and a strong sense of self doubt. This, ladies and gentlemen, is adulthood, and one of the many reasons I stay up late eating cheesecake alone in front of the t.v. at night. It might also be the reason for the teardrops on my guitar, but I can't reme…


Sleep has become my best friend and worst enemy. Okay, let me rephrase that: Sleep continues to be my best friend, and is now ALSO my worst enemy. How can that be you ask? I'll tell you. Sleep has become a black hole for me, a place that I get sucked into and can't climb out from. I love sleep. I love to dream and relax and be in my bed with all 10 of my blankets piled on while my fan blows directly at my face (and I'm covered all the way to my head with just my nose peeking out...). I love that. I also love the moments before I fall asleep where I fantasize about things that I really want. That sounds great, right? Well it is! Except for when it isn't. Lately all I can bring myself to do is sleep. My brain doesn't want to deal with real life so it orders me to bed where I feel awful for being there, but can't get up. This is depression for me, a part of it anyway. My depression always includes some sort of oppression. Not oppression from people (other than mys…

No wire hangers.

The past few weeks have been mentally difficult. I am so unhappy right now. I can't even begin to describe the number of times I've thought about self harming; I pulled my hair so hard yesterday that it nearly came out. I only stopped out of pure vanity. After that happened I drug a wire hanger across the veins of my left wrist, but couldn't bring myself to actually do damage. The pain I could inflict upon myself sounds lovely and it would be the perfect escape from the pain I have in my head and heart right now. I know why I am hurting. I know why I feel despair and rage and sadness and agitation and a lack of fulfillment. But I can't tell anyone.

Stupid Hair

I cannot begin to explain the anguish my hair is causing me. I'm so fucking attached to the length that it's ridiculous, but I also hate it and want it short...but what if I'm ugly and what if people don't like me as much with short hair? What if I look old or my face looks round? How fucking dumb is that thought process? So dumb. I totally recognize it, but here I am, playing the "should I or shouldn't I?" game, and it seems that regardless of which side I pick, I'm not happy with my choice. Hair is so stupid and controlling. It has so much damn power over me that it's like I have Stockholm Syndrome with my thin as fuck mane. Again, so dumb. I've felt this way before, and I'm sure I'll feel it again in my life time, and it seems that the only way to remedy the problem is to chop it all off. Once it's gone I often times feel free, but I also feel regret for the stupid long hair that once was. I'm in hair limbo, guys. 
I sometim…