I have no problem with other people (as in pretty much anyone) discovering this site. Yet when I was randomly surfing around, I found a blog of someone I see fairly daily. I’m not really a friend of this person so I was extremely hesitant on clicking the link to see the webpage. The feeling I got was the exact same feeling I have when checking up on websites of people that I first met in person, in real life. It is not the same feeling I get when I meet someone after I’ve communicated with them online.
In a way, seeing the flesh and blood mask that people wear is a barrier. Sure, the words on the internet may be all fake, but still it came from their heads–something that I am not privy to when I talk to them face to face. It’s like sneaking into somebody’s room and stealing their diary or suddenly developing the ability to hear others’ innermost thoughts. Getting over such uneasiness is a hard thing, even when I know that anyone putting things on the web know anyone can access it.
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Every so often I go to have my hair butchered. It’s not about getting rid of split ends. I don’t get split ends. Getting a hair cut is almost like being reborn. I don’t really feel like a different person, but I appear slightly different–as if I’ve switched bodies with a double in a parallel universe.
When I was younger, I only got my hair cut to even up the ends and to trim my bangs. By the time I was fourteen, my hair reached my waist. I think it was compensation from my preschool years when the teachers mistook me for a boy. But after a while, it was for a more practical reason when I grew out my bangs and had my hair chopped to shoulder length. Now my hair isn’t even that long. It’s only a few millimeters past the bottom of my ears.
Some people tell me that my hair grows really fast. I just think they get haircuts more often than I do.