Hair.

Last summer I started dyeing my hair - there was never any reason for it other than I walked into the CVS, saw that they had reds and blues and pinks, and thought - why not? I tried red; it ended being bright, bright pink.

I can't explain why I did it, or why I continue to do it - I'm kind of a private person on some levels, and it exposes me in a way I'm not used to being - I come up with a lot of justifications about how it makes me confront a part of myself that needs to be dealt with, but really - as fun as it is, I sometimes feel like a freak.

You don't think people care about your hair, but they really do - they see it as a sign of a deeper symptom, and that's been the aggravating part: because yes, it is. Yes, I am completely working something out on the canvas of my hair. And in all honestly...even I don't know what it is yet. I'm sure it is a cry for attention, a demand to stand out, a rail against aging, and on and on - I think ALL of that is right. And as gently as I can say this, it's also none of your business.

I honestly, really don't know why I do it. I just do. It doesn't seem to be hurting anyone, and hopefully the answer will come in time. But in time to save my hair from falling out? Who can say? I leave that to the philosophers.