Grey

I feel a rant coming on.  On second thought, I am too tired to rant, or even talk about anything right now.  I was going to vacuum my room today, and de-hair everything, but it gives me too much room for self pity, I need to wait and do it on a day where I am happier.  It’s just like somebody saying please clean up this mess that you had no control over.  It’s shameful, embarrassing.  And frankly, I don’t even know if I want to wear a wig.  I want to shave my head. I am tired of watching my hair fall out.  Watching it thin, trying to cover it awkwardly, and seeing pictures of what it used to look like.  I’m tired of the constant changing, every day.  I’m tired of plucking black hair off of everything I own.  And of course I have to be blessed with the darkest of brown hair, so obviously noticeable on everything.  I am tired of finding hair balls on the bottom of my socks, and all over my bed.  I’m tired of feeling ashamed, of wearing hats for my runs, and enduring a heat wave inside of them because it’s not cold enough to wear them.  I’m tired of telling people nonchalantly of what’s going on with me.  I’m tired of only talking about the tip of the iceberg.  There is a whole other part that is underwater, and it stretches deep down, deep within me.  I’m tired of hearing people shrug off the problem, and say that it’s going to be okay.  So if it’s going to be okay, could you give me a date and time, because that would help me a lot thanks.  I’m tired of trying to maintain a positive outlook.  I’m tired of dealing with this stupidly, rare, “disease” that nobody even knows, or seems to care about.  I’m tired of crying, and I’m tired of hugs from people, of meaningless support, of people asking how I am, and of people saying that I’m beautiful because they don’t know anything else to say.  All I want is an answer. Something tangible to hold on to.  Someone who knows more about this than I do, to tell me something!  And I know that people mean well, but it hurts more sometimes.  Because nobody understands what is happening to me.  And because I can’t even explain it to anyone either. It’s like I can’t even talk about it. Because what is there to say? I’m so angry and it’s so suppressed.  I sob in my bed, probably every other night. I cry to myself, because I’m the only one who gets what I am going through, and because I really don’t want to hear encouraging words, and advice.  If I were editing all of these thoughts I would say I am bathing in self pity, and maybe that is true, but how could you not?  When you play this cool, calm, collected person all day, and inside you are burning like a fire, sobbing, screaming, or isolated.  I’m psycho.  I’m Shauna, the freak with crazy hair.  I’m not a freak, apparently I’m beautiful.  But how the hell am I supposed to feel it? I can’t feel it. It’s a huge secret.  I can’t show the world who I really am, because it’s not normal. What the hell is normal? I can’t walk outside without something on my head, because people would look at me weirdly.  What did I do to deserve this? What? I don’t know. I would rather it be black or white. Either all there, or all gone, none of this gray crap.  I hate the shade of grey right now, all it does is reminds me of ambiguity, of not knowing a solution.  What type of person holds a grudge on a colour? Like that is some weird stuff I tell you.  Oh yeah, the other thing. I probably can’t even shave my head because then nobody will know the progression of my hair.  So basically, I have to endure it falling out, everyday, with no control over it.  I’m surprised I haven’t developed some sort of eating disorder over this thing.  I seriously lack control over my hair, and I am a person who does what ever I can to be in control of situations.  So on a positive note, kudos to me for not becoming anorexic or bulimic.  Heck, if I did do that all my hair would probably fall out in a day.  Maybe that’s a good thing?  The sane part of my mind can’t believe I just wrote that having an eating disorder for a day would be a good thing.  Wow, what turmoil.  And I’m supposed to be going to sleep soon.  Peacefully.  Well, that probably won’t happen.