I am quiet. The classroom is still as we complete our assignment. Thoughts tumble about my mind as I recall the dream from last night. There was a party.
The last party I held was the best. Twelve angry men and seven dwarves could not compete with the group I assembled. We were perfectly paired and complemented.
I am frustrated. Why can I not think of anything to say? I usually have so much going on in my head that I cannot seem to shut it off. And yet now there is nothing but the dark abyss. I had this same problem when I wrote my paper on the Republic senior year. Twelve pages to write and I could not think of even one. I managed to churn out three pages of senseless dribble, but it was only a rant on how I wanted to be able to make my own choices; nothing in particular, and certainly nothing having to do with Plato or justice.
This seems to be a reoccurring theme in my life. Bitter and apathetic towards most things, and then I change my hair and everyone knows it. Or do they? Perhaps none of them know me well enough to pick up on the subtle changes in my attitude as easily as the changes in my hair. Maybe all they see is an occasional blue streak and not a lonely little girl who is afraid to grow up.
Maybe all I am to some people is my hair.
Now I am a brunette. There are some vague traces of my former hair color lurking underneath. Something to remind everyone who I was before.
I think I was happier how I was before. Not hair color-wise, but in regards to my attitude. My life. I think I was happier before. Not to say that I am unhappy now, I just think I may have been exquisitely happy then, and at present I am only satisfactorily happy.
But at least I am satisfied.
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