Pixie do, pixie don't

I love my new hair.
Courage finally came and I cut it.
Cut it into a pixie.
I did it.
I love it.
But I do have a complain.
Okay, so maybe two complaints.
1. It isn't as easy to style as I thought.
2. Short hair seems to make people think I like girls.
I don't like girls.
It's all about boys boys boys!
They make me tingle.
So square and big and strong and boys.
Why does short hair have to be a sign of lesbianism?
It's not!
Short hair is freedom and equality.
It just means I wanted to be free.
I wanted to see how I would look.
Experiment.
It does not mean "girls come at me!"
My goodness.
No.

hey love,

i know it's always hard to believe, but this too will pass. if there's anything i can do don't hesitate to let me know. i'll be home in a week. i leave you with Postsecret words of wisdom:

Jesus Take The Wheel

My family has always been different. 

Even though we may seem relatively normal, we are not. 

This statement used to only describe my extended family. 

The crazy aunt. The anorexic cousin. The lesbian sisters. 

The toothless pirate. The Mormon Little Monster.  

A dysfunctional bunch. 

It's crazy how "different" now applies to my immediate family.

I mean, I have an older sister I met only three years ago.  

Stuff like that only happens in novelas. 

Maria la del Barrio and shit.  

Or apparently in my family.

My cousin has a younger sister she learned of three years ago too; her dad has another family on the side.  

Run of the mill stuff. 

And now, I find out another thing about my family. 

My immediate family. 

Something that breaks my heart. 

It's the reason why I can't sleep. 

The truth hurts sometimes. 

I think I would have preferred to be in the dark. 

Ignorance is bliss. 

It truly is. 

I ask, "why me?" 

I think God believes that I'm a bad ass. 

A bad ass that can handle a broken heart and broken dreams. 

I hope I am. 

People move on from harder issues. 

I can too. 

It was just a blow. 

An atom bomb. 

KABOOM. 

My life changed. 

Just. 

Like. 

That. 

I probably told you that I was sick for three days and bed ridden.  

I was bed ridden because I was so sad. 

Sunshine made me sad. 

People made me sad. 

My body got sick because I was so sad. 

I think I was on the verge of depression.  

Honestly, I don't know how to deal with it. 

You're the only person to know. 

And I think it's best to keep it like that. 

I don't want to explain why. 

The "why" hurts. 

Like if my heart was being crushed by a pink elephant. 

One of those from Dumbo. 

Like my childhood nightmare.

I know I'll come out a better person. 

I know it. 

It just hurts now. 

God save me. 

Somewhere over the rainbow

I used to love sleeping.

I mean, just check previous posts. 

Sleeping was like a drug. 

I was addicted. 

I didn't want a 12 step program to battle it. 

It was an addiction I loved. 

This has all changed. 

Sleeping is scary now. 

So very scary. 

I can't sleep like I used to. 

My head thinks and I try to fall asleep but it keeps on thinking. 

And thinking. 

And it hurts. 

Then, when sleep actually comes - I dream. 

I dream weird things.

Things I can't remember. 

But I know aren't peaceful. 

I wake up in the middle of the night. 

Because my head feels clouded. 

It takes me a while to find sleep again. 

I wake up as as if I hadn't slept. 

Tired. 

So very tired. 

lovestruck

Sarah Kay is so beautifully inspiring, this piece is one of my favorites. i listen to this every once in a while and hope for the day i will write and perform something like this.