I dip dyed my hair blonde on Sunday in an attempt to fight the usual boredom. And it looks awesome. I didn't really spend that long carefully selecting the bleach - the woman on the box had blonde hair so I'm assuming it did relatively the right thing, and I could afford it without having to plod off to the cash machine and go get some more money out, so I bought it. Naturally I filmed the whole thing and later edited it for YouTube. I did, however, make the small mistake of dying a streak of my hair blonde, too. I aimed for just a small little part of my hair, but instead the strand expanded to form a yellowish layer over the rest of the front of my hair - so now, from the front, because you can't see the rest of my hair, which is brown, it looks like I've badly dyed all of it blonde. Which sucks. I don't actually know if I'm allowed it at work or not yet, but if not, well, it's not up to them what I do with my hair. And if they're going to send me home for it, then I'm leaving. There's so much crazy stuff I want to do with my hair that cannot concern them. It's my body after all.
My friend Mikaela and I completely lost the desire to go home yesterday. Literally as I got off the bus, these awful waves of dread began to wash over me - I'm sick of coming home to a house containing only my bullying step-father, being pissed off by the time I go upstairs and then sitting in a cold room writing essays. It's awful. So we bought some food from a nearby shop and sat in the park until it got too dark and cold to continue on with our lack of desire to go home. My excuse to my step-dad was that I missed the bus. He sent back 'Ok.' Note the full stop at the end there. Mikaela's Mum? Okay honey xxxxxxx. I don't think I need to say anymore.
When I finally got home, however, there was bad news waiting for me. My dog, Wilson, has a tumour on his leg. We're not sure if it's cancerous yet; he's having surgery on Thursday so I guess we'll find out soon enough. It's funny; I used to sigh and roll my eyes when I saw him. I always used to find him an annoying little shit, always so full of energy and hope and happiness when to be honest, I haven't really had any of those things. I suppose I was a little bit jealous of his precious little world. But seeing him lying there, exhausted, and then later on, seeing him roll around on the floor, completely oblivious to the world outside and what was wrong with him, brought tears burning into the backs of my eyes. I sat there clinging on to him for a while. He's not even a year old yet.
There's so much pain and loss and change in my life right now. So many things to worry about, to watch pass by, to mourn for. My Mum sits there crying and is hardly there mentally right now because she's on teacher placement and it is quite literally killing her; she can't cope with the strain and I don't blame her. My step-dad is, to be honest, no use to anyone. All he does is shout and bully and get overly defensive. My brother's away in uni. So I'm the one who has to be strong right now. I'm holding up okay. Despite the insomnia. But it means I get to talk to GuyImetatparty and he helps a lot. But I promised myself I would be strong. So here I go.
Rach
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