tonight tonight

I just hacked all of my hair off. It used to come down to the middle of my back, but now it just grazes my neck. And no haircut job either. I pulled it all to one side and hacked at that for several minutes. Then I got rid of the rest of the other side when I let it fall over. I think I wanted to cut/damage myself, but I'm not so big on pain/scars. And who do you really call when all of your friends want to believe in your act of being normal, even when you try to tell them you're not? That you begin crying sometimes when you wake up. That what seems so pedantic to them is overwhelming to you. That just because to them you seem to have all this potential doesn't mean that you don't have nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. Who do you call to stop you then?

It wasn't a freeing act. It was vindictive, if there's a word for it, it's vindictive. Although if it's against myself or the world or myself in this world I don't know. If you're bothering to read this, good luck and find a better blog. Because I'm in no mood to be witty.

What annoys me the most is that I know that in the ensuing days I'm going to find some way to brush off the fact that I've butchered my hair to my roommate, friends and acquaintances. What's the point of a plaintive cry for help when you're screaming silently.