Free Fall
by September Anderson
One moment you’re here, the next you’re not. You’re like a high that I chase. “I only come when you ask me to”. I never asked for this. Why did you come? Why are you here? Just leave me alone. “I can't leave. It's me, not you.” Grand hairless spots grow on top, while black spots grow on the bottom. The strings of hair fall so carefreely surrounding me as I move on to the next. Playing tug of war with my curls until they fall onto the ground; sometimes in bed, sometimes in the car, sometimes in a classroom. The next thing I know, you’ve given me a mohawk with smooth sides. The feeling of bare skin as I run my fingers against the sore areas gives me a wrenching feeling in the pit of my stomach. It feels like a battle within myself, and you are trying to take over my life. Isolation is the result of these episodes. It doesn’t get much easier. I pull when I'm bored, I pull when I'm busy. I pull when I'm anxious, I pull when I'm too calm. The feeling of soothing the ache is more satisfying than God’s creation. The dark root I analyze when I pull out the string of hair is more satisfying than life itself. My hair is kinky, full, and long until you come along, making it thin, dull, and my scalp tender. You’re taking over my life, and I let you succeed. I now know how you work and when you will attack; while sitting in solitude, my head starts to buzz with the sensation of the great feeling that has been the same for over the past 13 years. The ache is painfully good. Like when you pull a scab or finally clean your fresh wound that you just scraped. It stings not pick, so I soothe myself and give in. Sitting in one spot, hunched over with tweezers, giving myself scoliosis. I start in one area and stay there for hours, letting time fly by absentmindedly. The most satisfying part, though, is when the hair is slowly breaking away from the follicle and then POP! There it goes, my ache has been calmed for just one second, then on to the next string of hair. POP. There goes another piece. I absentmindedly let it fall wherever the breeze takes it. Usually, it's onto my shoulders, then eventually onto the floor, where they pile together and become hairballs. You know the worst part though? “What?” People will always see you before they see my beauty; they will always judge before they can understand. No matter how bubbly my personality is, or how pretty I am, you always seem to stand out more. Not anymore! When you are not flooding my mind, I am laser-focused. I am at a flow state with assignments, carefree, laughing and joking with friends, putting together a puzzle; I am at peak happiness with life. I am myself when I am not giving in to the urges you constantly put into my head.
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September Anderson is from Dallas, Texas. She is a first-year student majoring in computer science and a member of the AFROTC program.