Where does it all go?

Sarcasm usually doesn’t bother me, in fact I am incredibly sarcastic usually. Today, I couldn’t handle it though.  People’s jokes felt like personal attacks.  People’s little comments hurt me deeply for no reason.  They don’t mean them that way, but that’s how I received them.  And the damage is done.  Nobody can love you like your mum can.  At least my mum.  I would give anything for a hug from her, or from my dad, or my brothers.  Heck, just to pat my dog.  In fact, I don’t always know what possessed me one morning in calculus class to really consider this university.  Exoticism I think.  I always want to be doing something different than other people.  I always want to be different from other people.  I want to be remembered somehow.  I just want to be safe.  Nobody can really comfort me completely here.  I’m afraid to break down.  I’m afraid once I do, I won’t be able to stand up again.  I don’t want to burden another person with my issue.  Nor do I want to have the time when I see them after I have my big crying session.  The message from that person’s eyes, pierces my heart, reminds me that I broke.  I never want to break.  Perfectionist freak, I know.  In more humourous news, today I yelled at a piece of hair that I watched fall to the carpet.  “Life is way better on my head than on the floor!”  Maybe I’m going crazy.  I don’t think so.  Not yet anyways.  Tomorrow is one of my Victoria besties’ birthdays.  I’m so happy, we’re going to eat carrot cake for breakfast. and I am debating whether to go buy a blank CD and burn my CD on to it for her.  Maybe I will.  Hopefully my mom’s voodoo hair growing potion comes soon, and also my gypsy turban.  I probably won’t use the hair potion though, I don’t trust that type of medicine. But with the turban,  I can really embody a weirdo personality.  Does anyone else find it weird that I had a full head of hair in the summer, but now I have like legitimately none?  I won’t say none, because in a week I’ll probably kill for the amount of hair I have on my head today.  The thing about losing your hair, is you don’t really lose it.  It just displaces itself.  Instead of finding it mostly on your head, you look in your bed, the floor, the sink, all of your clothes, and you see multiple friendly reminders of your rare, awkward, and embarrassing situation.  I went running this morning, and I ran really fast.  I felt like maybe, I could run faster than my hair was falling out.  That maybe the faster I went, I would beat time and reverse the process.