Two weeks and counting

I did it. I cut my hair. Six inches... GONE, just like that. I still see myself in mirrors and do a double-take. I haven't had short hair like this since I was nine years old, back in the day when I had messy bangs that made me look homeless. I'm not quite sure how I managed to get up the nerve to do this. I have been exceedingly vain about my luxuriant long hair for a long time.

I think I just needed a change. Physically, I mean. Everything else in my life seems to be changing. I'm graduating in two weeks. I have to say a permanent goodbye to my first love. I'll be moving off the SPU campus and into a house in Ballard. I'll be out in "the real world," as they say. And that terrifies me. Maybe cutting my hair was an attempt to create a new me, a more sophisticated, older me. Yet, I still feel like a lonely, scared 21-year-old girl. God, help me.

Here we go again

I never knew it was possible to miss him when he's right here beside me. I see him nearly every day. We laugh, we talk, we poke, we hug, we drive... but I miss him in anticipation of missing him. We'll graduate, he'll leave, and I'll still be here in Seattle, missing a huge part of me.