Writer's Log, Earth Date 01.06.2011
It's been three days since I've begun this war...and already my hair has reached new heights--quite literally. I have taken an imaginary vow not to let my hair be cut during this month of struggle. And already the troubles have surfaced. It has become...an afro of sorts. It has always been something of an afro. It's nearly impossible to keep down. And now...my head feels twice as heavy and looks twice as big.
Even putting on my glasses has become a chore. I can no longer put the sides of the glasses over the hair, or else I threaten to bend the hinges of the frame in an unfriendly manner. I must insert the sidepieces through the hair, not over it.
This hair is no ordinary hair either. It twists, waves and curls around. They're like little feathers constantly poking the inside of my ear. When I go to sleep I feel like I'm sleeping on an extra pillow...a pillow of hair. It even gets in my eyes when I'm not looking. Just a turn of my head and I'm stabbed in the eye, betrayed by my own cells, by my own DNA.
The hair has gotten so out of control that many times I wonder...if something is living inside...without my knowledge.