Monday, November 9, 2015

Magic Hat 11.9.15

Everyone told me to pluck it. But I wouldn’t budge. It’s not as though anyone could notice it anyways — it was a part of me and if that hair wanted to grow longer than the rest of the other hairs on my right thigh, then so be it.

The truth is, I noticed the hair when I was having a hard time adjusting to New York. Like that character in that movie with that famous actor, I had romanticized New York out of proportion. I was too naïve, too willing, too lost. I felt like I was in a dark hole, minuscule. All I wanted was to be someone or something else; I wanted to be rid of the burden of being myself. I knew it was bad when I envied plants. When I couldn’t write anymore. When I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.

I got entangled with people who didn’t really care about me. I started making dumb decisions. I longed for home and the familiar, but when I returned, it turned out I had also romanticized it out of proportion. I felt like I had missed something. Like everyone was on this train ride that I wasn’t in. I felt rejected and left out and I blamed myself: I wanted to crawl out of the depths of my skin. I wanted to dive into my tears. I wanted to drown from my own thoughts.

Then one day, while visiting my family in Puerto Rico, I looked down at my tanning legs and there it was. A blond hair much, much longer than the rest. Waving and dancing with the wind as if saying hello. I was astounded. Here was a hair - a molecule from my very own body - that refused to be hated. It was determined to grow so that I would notice it. So that I, in that hair, could see that the world doesn’t revolve around me, but that I had to begin by taking care of myself.

I liked having it around - it was a constant reminder that this body was a vessel worth driving. I also liked showing it to people; it made them laugh which made me laugh, which made the hair laugh. I knew I was being a bit overprotective and crazy over this hair, but it was making me laugh! It was my daily inspiration: I wanted to thrive as much as that dancing single hair.
I started to write again. I started to get out of bed. I started to forgive myself. 

And before I knew it, Summer had come and gone and I was so busy, I wasn’t paying attention. I just assumed my long hair would keep growing and growing and growing.  But when I checked last week, it had gone. (It was like suddenly realizing that the Goodwill in front of your house had gone out of business.  When was the last time you looked up and noticed it? How long has it been since it closed?)

However, I like to believe my long hair is travelling around the world, probably taking selfies with a luscious hair of Leo Dicaprio's head or, partying with one of Trevor Noah's armpit hairs. I also like to imagine that it flies with the wind, on the back of a fallen leaf, surrounded by the fiery beauty of Fall. 

And, I know that if it could, it would have left me a post-it note saying, “You’re on your own now kid, and you’ll be fine.” 


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