(no subject)
Obvious question of the year:
"Claudia, you cut your hair??"
I have nothing else to say.
Or maybe I do.
"But your long hair...that was you!"
No, it wasn't. And if you really think this, I feel sad for you. What I look like is not what defines me.
"If I shaved my head, would you still talk to me?"
That was a test question. You thought I was kidding. I wasn't. A test, all a test. Does this knowledge change what you answered? Not everyone passed. I won't ask again. In many instances, I didn't even have to ask. Don't you know your reactions give you away? You'd think that as humans, we'd have this 'body language' thing down after a while. I fail in that department, too.
"Your long, beautiful hair! Where is the Claudia we knew?"
Where IS the Claudia you knew? And did you know her?
These days, I often catch my hands roaming at the back of my head, fingers grasping the short hair. I run my fingers through, the texture reminding me of the down on a baby animal. My hair is soft, short, although not as short as I initially thought I'd go. It sticks straight up, a messy array of raven with a hint of auburn still showing through. I work my fingers in every direction, leaving a wild disaster on my head. The front hangs over my eyes. It gets in my mouth when I talk and I do not wish to touch it. I shake my head frequently, the strands flailing in a new way.
"You were so beautiful with your long hair! That is what I liked about you."
My, you are shallow and narcissistic. Aren't we all. I cut it because I was sad. I cut it to make me happy. I cut it because, number one, I wanted to. We're all selfish. I am no longer beautiful? Tell me I'm ugly now. Or tell me that this new hair means nothing to you, that you would still...that you would still.
Am I going to let it grow back?
No.
"If you love someone, let that person go...if they come back, they were truly yours."
Bull shit. Two words: bull shit.
If you really love someone, you'll fight for them. You will brave anything for that person, tears stinging your eyes and blurring all you see. You'll develop claws, bite back, leap into adversity.
You do not just let go. YOU. DO. NOT. JUST.
LET.
FUCKING.
GO.
Don't tell me otherwise.
Is this what we have become? Fighters only by name, but cowards by true nature?
I win, you lose. You win, I lose.
Forget that shit.
You just gotta fight.
For the things you want, for the people you love, for what you stand for, for your dreams, for your words to have meaning, because YOU are still your biggest enemy, and always so good at bringing yourself down.
There are no excuses anymore.
"Claudia, you cut your hair??"
I have nothing else to say.
Or maybe I do.
"But your long hair...that was you!"
No, it wasn't. And if you really think this, I feel sad for you. What I look like is not what defines me.
"If I shaved my head, would you still talk to me?"
That was a test question. You thought I was kidding. I wasn't. A test, all a test. Does this knowledge change what you answered? Not everyone passed. I won't ask again. In many instances, I didn't even have to ask. Don't you know your reactions give you away? You'd think that as humans, we'd have this 'body language' thing down after a while. I fail in that department, too.
"Your long, beautiful hair! Where is the Claudia we knew?"
Where IS the Claudia you knew? And did you know her?
These days, I often catch my hands roaming at the back of my head, fingers grasping the short hair. I run my fingers through, the texture reminding me of the down on a baby animal. My hair is soft, short, although not as short as I initially thought I'd go. It sticks straight up, a messy array of raven with a hint of auburn still showing through. I work my fingers in every direction, leaving a wild disaster on my head. The front hangs over my eyes. It gets in my mouth when I talk and I do not wish to touch it. I shake my head frequently, the strands flailing in a new way.
"You were so beautiful with your long hair! That is what I liked about you."
My, you are shallow and narcissistic. Aren't we all. I cut it because I was sad. I cut it to make me happy. I cut it because, number one, I wanted to. We're all selfish. I am no longer beautiful? Tell me I'm ugly now. Or tell me that this new hair means nothing to you, that you would still...that you would still.
Am I going to let it grow back?
No.
"If you love someone, let that person go...if they come back, they were truly yours."
Bull shit. Two words: bull shit.
If you really love someone, you'll fight for them. You will brave anything for that person, tears stinging your eyes and blurring all you see. You'll develop claws, bite back, leap into adversity.
You do not just let go. YOU. DO. NOT. JUST.
LET.
FUCKING.
GO.
Don't tell me otherwise.
Is this what we have become? Fighters only by name, but cowards by true nature?
I win, you lose. You win, I lose.
Forget that shit.
You just gotta fight.
For the things you want, for the people you love, for what you stand for, for your dreams, for your words to have meaning, because YOU are still your biggest enemy, and always so good at bringing yourself down.
There are no excuses anymore.