why I do my own hair
I booked myself in for a hair appointment yesterday. I thought it went well, although during some points I sensed she'd turned on me. However, she was too professional to be obvious about it so I wasn't able to know if it was paranoia or instinct, you know? I mean, normal humans would sense these things clearly, I'm just left with a vague uncertainty I can't trust. I can't ask anyone about it as they'd always lie. Humans always lie. That's the problem. They lie, and they expect you to do the same and I just can't.
I got done my hair appointment, she tried giving me a discount, several times, as though she'd done something horrible to me, but I was innocent yet. When I was giving my hair a better look in the bathroom I finally realized she'd swapped the pink and blue colours and I had blue hair with pink accents instead of pink hair with blue accents.
I stopped by the salon to make sure she knew, and she acted like she thought that was what I'd asked for. However, no question she understood and we'd clearly dialoged about it so either she slipped up really bad at the last minute or decided to do something to ensure I never booked again. I finally concluded on the way home that this was the more likely possibility. I was myself, and it wasn't acceptable. I can't even manage to keep a hair dresser!
So I worked on my hair to remove the blue and put pink in it's place and got something more blue than purple and not pink. Till it's faded enough to get the pink back I'm stuck feeling rejected and being reminded that I got rejected. Just when I had forgotten what a hateable person I am. If I try and talk to anyone about it, they insist it can't be true, that nobody is that hateable. Nobody ever believes me, so I don't talk about it. it's embarassing anyway. Still, the general attitude I get from others leaves me doubting my own experiences all the time.
So it's made sleeping harder and when I did sleep, I dreamed of people getting mad at me over every little thing. Not just peeved, but unforgiving levels of anger, the kind where they ostracize you forever. Every time for something I either didn't understand at all, or couldn't have prevented. What a way to wake up. I didn't frankly. But so what? Chores gotta be done.
Why must i live this entire fucking life? Why is it so necessary to have a pariah in the world that I have to do this for so many years? What could I possibly take from this that would justify all this pain? Why can't I just die and get it over with?
I see them developing homeless villages and I wonder about the people like me. So hated they incite violence and antisocial behaviour from the group around them and the convenient solutions not one of tolerance and group maturity, but remove the one person. But to where? You kick us out but you don't kill us. We're left on the outer edge with nothing but a view of what we're missing. That is not kinder than murder.
I got done my hair appointment, she tried giving me a discount, several times, as though she'd done something horrible to me, but I was innocent yet. When I was giving my hair a better look in the bathroom I finally realized she'd swapped the pink and blue colours and I had blue hair with pink accents instead of pink hair with blue accents.
I stopped by the salon to make sure she knew, and she acted like she thought that was what I'd asked for. However, no question she understood and we'd clearly dialoged about it so either she slipped up really bad at the last minute or decided to do something to ensure I never booked again. I finally concluded on the way home that this was the more likely possibility. I was myself, and it wasn't acceptable. I can't even manage to keep a hair dresser!
So I worked on my hair to remove the blue and put pink in it's place and got something more blue than purple and not pink. Till it's faded enough to get the pink back I'm stuck feeling rejected and being reminded that I got rejected. Just when I had forgotten what a hateable person I am. If I try and talk to anyone about it, they insist it can't be true, that nobody is that hateable. Nobody ever believes me, so I don't talk about it. it's embarassing anyway. Still, the general attitude I get from others leaves me doubting my own experiences all the time.
So it's made sleeping harder and when I did sleep, I dreamed of people getting mad at me over every little thing. Not just peeved, but unforgiving levels of anger, the kind where they ostracize you forever. Every time for something I either didn't understand at all, or couldn't have prevented. What a way to wake up. I didn't frankly. But so what? Chores gotta be done.
Why must i live this entire fucking life? Why is it so necessary to have a pariah in the world that I have to do this for so many years? What could I possibly take from this that would justify all this pain? Why can't I just die and get it over with?
I see them developing homeless villages and I wonder about the people like me. So hated they incite violence and antisocial behaviour from the group around them and the convenient solutions not one of tolerance and group maturity, but remove the one person. But to where? You kick us out but you don't kill us. We're left on the outer edge with nothing but a view of what we're missing. That is not kinder than murder.