New hair, new problems

My mom hates my hair.
She hates it.
She thinks it looks bad.
Instead of fucking keeping it to herself, she tells me.
I mean, honestly, on top of my other bunch of shit, she had to add insecurities to the mix.
Because I obviously need more insecurities on my life.
Really.
Make me doubt myself.
I mean, no it's okay, I love doing that.
Doubting myself.
It's like a hobby really.
Oh yeah, doubting myself and my friends.
Because trusting people isn't hard enough.
She says everyone is just being nice.
I mean, this is what I think to begin with and it takes me time to trust people.
And now.
Back to square one.
I mean, really.
Fucking shit.