repetitions
Memories are the stories you tell yourself over and over, and I've been telling myself the wrong stories. Yesterday I re-read a few old entries from my early 20s (lord knows why) and I wish the memories I'd held on to had been different. Less about someone who I’m now realizing was unworthy of my time and mental energy. More about the day-to-day. More about the people who showed up for me.
And sometimes, honestly, I wish I had a brain that didn’t feel the constant need to retread these paths.
***
Well, the eight inches became something more like ten, and my hair is now a shoulder length bob. A little longer and softer than the one I had in my 20s & 30s. I feel like myself again.
Which reminds me of one small, funny thing that I do remember quite clearly, something from when I was still working in retail as a poor college student (before I started working for corporate and traveling as a visual designer).
A customer came up to me, took one look at my newly cut hair, and told me “Your hair look fake.” I first thought she was asking if I was wearing a wig (rude?) but after a few moments she clarified that she just really liked my hair. When I shared this with Mary and Taylor they both found it hysterical, and on the rare occasions we see one another, one of them will usually say it to me.
***
Maybe today will be more productive & less painful. Maybe my brain will let up on me.
9:02 a.m. - 2023-07-23