uncomfortable man
Senior Member
- Reaction score
- 490
I just woke up from a dream. Alot of things were going on in it, but torwards the end, I remember standing in front of the mirror. I guess I looked the way I do now only obscured. I picked up a comb and started combing my scalp and the weak pathetic hairs on top. The more I combed the more hair grew, until I wasn't bald anymore. I kept combing my hair longer and into different styles and felt an overwhelming sense of joy and security. When I came to a length and style that I liked I took a moment to look at myself, at how this hair had changed my appearance, my face. I thought to myself, now I can go outside without hiding, without being ashamed. I was on my way out the door when I woke up. The harsh weight of reality sunk in and my spirit withered. I hate waking up from those dreams, its like having to re-experience going bald all over again. I HATE MYSELF! I HATE THE WAY I LOOK! I HATE HAVING TO LIVE WITH LESS WHILE EVERYONE ELSE TAKES IT FOR GRANTED! I HATE HIDING! FUUUUUCK WHYYYYYYY! Why is there even balding in the first place- what purpose could it possibly serve. Are we really defective, diseased, inferior specimens of humanity? I can't pretend that it doesn't matter anymore. I can't rise above. I can't live with myself like this! :lost: