The Book I'll Never Write

Chapter: Are you fucking kidding me?

So, after talking, what it comes down to is ultimately that "girls shouldn't have short hair." That's what it always comes down to. It seems like all of my actions must fall into this perfect little box. Because even if I try to do something outside of the box, I'm still put into another one. I can't escape the label, and I can't do what would make me happy because of having to fit that god damn fucking label. Why does it matter so much? I still don't know why it means so much to me to get a haircut, I honestly don't know why. I mean fuck it's just a haircut right? Why am I so upset over it all? Why am I so absolutely heartbroken? Why does it mean so much to me? It's so exhausting to live like this. I feel everything so strongly, or not at all. It's either life or death or complete indifference. And I can't get upset because I have no reason to. I have no reason to be upset or be sad over something so stupidly insignificant as a haircut, but I am devastated. I want to punch things, I want to do something other than sit here and bite back tears while writing a dumb book that I'm never gonna finish.

It hurts. A lot. I don't know how to describe exactly what I'm feeling, my chest is tight and I feel heavy. I feel so lost and broken and I have no reason to. I feel helpless and angry. I want to slam my fist against a wall and break things and scream but I can't because I have to be fucking okay. Because I can be broken as long as it's cute and easy to fix. Because I can't be the kind of broken that can't be fixed or helped. Because I'm not allowed to be so desperate to escape that I literally want to rip out my own hair. Because trying to explain that I am desperate is being manipulative. Because Im broken in a way I can't fix and i'm pissed off about it. Because nobody seems to understand that. Because people think it's just a bad day. Because I'm lost and scared and would it really kill you to take me in to get a fucking haircut that would only take 20 minutes? Because you don't know how much it means to me and I can't explain it to you. Because I can't show you how much it fucking means to me to get this stupid fucking haircut. Because it's unreasonable for a haircut to mean so much because why fucking would it?

I want to throw things and break things and punch things. I want to get mad and yell and explode. But I'm not allowed to. So I have to sit here and pretend everything's okay when really I just want to scream. So yeah. Fuck it. Whatever. I can't show you how much it means to me, and I can't do anything about it so I just need to fucking sit here like a fucking doormat like I always do.

I would like to say though, that I did get it cut. Ever since I did, I've been so much more confident. I've felt more like myself than I ever have, so there's that at least.