Somedays 

I love new year, I love being with my family, celebrating. I dont love the looks of my family when my hand goes to my head. 

In new year, you make resulotions, some are basic, like "This new year, I will read 5 books more" some are more complicated, like "This year, I will stop eating so much meat and will start using more my bike" and some are straight up lies, like "This year, I will stop pulling"

 

Look, I am not saying you can't stop pulling. I am saying I can't stop pulling. 

I wish I could, I really do, but I know, when the night comes, when nobody is watching me, I will pull out that tiny hair. until that one becomes 2, and then 3, and then 10 and then 22. and then, my fingers will hurt, my feelings will hurt and my head will not be pleased. And then, my bald spot will, once again, be seen. And then, people will comment about it.

When i was in 9 grade, people used to ask me "what happend?" "why does it look shaved?" my friends would laugh, my mom would scream, my hand would itch. My heart would break.

Somedays, I dont think I will ever be able to stop. Somedays, I want to shave my head and make it go away. 

Somedays I want to die

But I dont, I keep going. I convince myself that eventually it will pass. Eventually, my mom will help. Eventually

Somedays I dont want to wake up, but I do. and I keep going, keep smiling, keep pretending. Because maybe, just maybe

Someday I will get better