Travlyn One~Shots (Some Zane~Chan)

Trichotillomania (Travlyn)

Important authors note: I'm writing about a mental health issue dealing with hair pulling, (don't confuse it with a kink, this is not a lemon/smut) and this is an anxiety thing that I personally do, so I'm not trying to be rude. Also, if you are uncomfortable with mental health issues then it's fine, I have other chapters coming. I'm also putting this onto Katelyn, from Aphmau, just because this is a way of coping, knowing that I'm not alone, and maybe some of you guys have something like this and you were afraid of saying anything, so I hope you like this. (Trick-o-tell-o-mania, at least that's how I pronounce it.) This is also how my life is currently going with this issue, so not everyone deals with it in the same way.

Travlyn

Fluff/angst

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Trichotillomania. This one word consumed my life in more ways than one.

Every day is a non-stop battle with myself; I wake up and the first thing I think of is how I wan't my hair back, or I think of pulling at it. It was absolute hell.

I haven't even told anyone besides my dad, not even my siblings knew. Well I mean, the school counselor knew, but she is just my counselor. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The thought of knowing that your hair is slowly being ripped out by your hands, and there are balds spots appearing along your once healthy scalp, is terrifying.

My hair had always been my safe haven; saving me from the coldness of this world. I used to get compliments on how beautiful my hair was, and that made me feel loved. My once full head of hair, that is now filled with patchy bald spots, was a voluminous, wavy mess. There were loose curls draping all the way down to my backside. I loved it. Now, I can't even wear my hair down without people noticing the baldness.

My best friend, Travis, used to play with it. I can still feel his fingers tangling in each curl, making me snap at him for touching me. Honestly, I liked how he used to touch me like that, I was just to stubborn to let him keep playing with it. Now, whenever he tries to touch my hair I get really heated, even more than I used to. I kind of feel bad for snapping at Travis, but I can't let anyone know about this idiotic problem.

You may be thinking, it's just hair, but not for me. It was not just hair for me, it signified my terrible will of being able to grow as a person. Ever since my mother left my family and I just a few years ago, I haven't been in the right mental state, so I turned to pulling out my hair. It first started with just casually scratching my head, and suddenly feeling a few pieces of blue hair fall down my back. Weirdly enough, I liked the feeling, so I kept doing it, it made me feel calmer. Little did I know that his would turn into a much bigger problem than it should've been.

Every day the hair pulling got progressively worse. I had found a spot on my head that stimulated my senses, causing me to feel a lot calmer than I actually was. In the moment it always feels calming, but once I'm done pulling I always have a mixture of horrible emotions:

You can't do this...

Nobody cares about you...

You don't deserve any of this...

Everyone's disappointed in you...

The list could go on for ages.

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As I arose from my desk to leave, I caught the glare of my friend, Travis. I saw his hand raise in attempt to call me over to where he and his friend were sitting. The dismissal bell had rang, basically ordering us to get our asses out of this hell-hole.