bad hair day

I’m not afraid to cut my hair, to cut ties, I’m not afraid to get fat, to get fired, to fail, to fall, to have fun, to leave, to live my life, to do what I want, to say what I need to, to defend myself, to defend the weak, to speak for myself to speak when i’m right, to apologize when I’m not. I’m not afraid to look at the person who has hurt me so much, to look at the person I see in the mirror, to look at the things that make me, the people who break me, I’m not afraid to get my heart broken, to be really broke, to have nothing in my pockets, in my hands, to have nothing but, no one but myself. I’m not afraid to unfriend, to decline, to say no, to hurt than to pretend. I’m not afraid to tell the truth, to admit my feelings, to say fuck you, to tell you to fuck off, to tell you how horrible you were, I’m not afraid to die, to not be remembered, celebrated, cried for, mourned, I’m not afraid to be left alone in the dark, with ghosts, with creaking sounds, I’m not afraid of tomorrow and the unknown, I’m not afraid to see my past right before my eyes, I’m not afraid of the stage, of gender, of judgment, of criticism of hear-says, of backstabbers, of what they say. I’m not afraid to stay up whole night, to wander in the dark at 3am, to reject, to be rejected, to be sad I’m not afraid to sleep for days, I’m not afraid of the rich, of guns, of death, of hunger. I’m not afraid of rage, of words, of your anger. I’m not afraid of your anger or your tears, I’m not afraid for my life. I’m not afraid of blood, of walking in the streets late at night, of wearing what I want, I’m not afraid of awkward stares, of silence, of the gaze, I’m not afraid of getting totally passed-out drunk, of beer of whiskey of love. I’m not afraid not to wake up. To kiss someone, to walk in EDSA, to swim, to ride a bike, to ride a cab going nowhere, to sleep like a log, to eat endlessly, to binge watch a whole month, to shop, to be  ridiculous, to say something wrong, to interchange p and f, to be ungrammatical. I’m not afraid of anything but myself. I’m afraid that I can never be fearless, that I would never be someone I could be proud of.

I’m afraid that this is what I want- to be someone who fears bad hair days or empty pockets, or ghosts, or failed relationships, failed projects, a failed life. I fear that no matter what, I’m gonna do this to myself and I will neer be able to conquer that fear that’s inside me. Except, probably, chopping this hair off.

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