I just cut my hair. Really badly, of course. With great big scissors. It was the closest I've come to fun in...weeks? Whatever. But I cut it a lot. I mean, over the course of three months it's gone from below my shoulders to two inches at the longest. In increments of a few inches every so often when I'm seized by the urge. But I just feel really good about it right now. Well, not quite. Not looking forward to talking to anyone about it. And since I did such a horrid job, I might have to go to a barber tomorrow to get it fixed up. Yes, I'm going to go do that. At nine in the morning.

Going to sleep now, the desire to die momentarily distracted by the sensation of running my palms over my hair.