Both Times I Cut My Hair.

Two times in my life I have cut my hair. Both times I was depressed and scared and shaking and trying not to cut myself. Both times I was in the shower, sawing away at my hair with a steak knife. I hacked away, not caring. I wanted it to look messed up, I wanted to look like a freak. I wanted to look as twisted and chaotic on the outside as I did on the inside. I pictured a girl with short, uneven locks clinging desperately to a head where a mind that may not have left her long ago possibly still resided.

Both times I cut my hair it didn't look abnormal. No one noticed unless I pointed it out and they thought it was cute.

My arms never lasted long after that.