I hate my brain
I don't know if there is a time when I don't hate my brain. I hate that I look in the mirror and am reminded I need shampoo, but I googled shampoo. I don't like th bars, my overly poorly bleached hair is too fragile to aggressivevly rub a bar of oat chunks vigoroulsly against my scalp while reading a detoriating box that ssays the bar doesn't lather. But if I buy plastic bottles they will just end up in a landfill for all of time, and my hair isn't worth that. I hate my hair. I want to cut it all off and I don't care what others think but I think I do care what I think sometimes and I don't think I would look great with a shaved head or I wouldn't want to draw more attention to myself or look like some militant crazy person. I am crazy but I am not militant. I don't want to be seen but I want my thoughts to be known but if my thoughts are known people will hate me and if people hate me they will threaten me and they will want to kill me. Aand not be