Shhhhh.....

Sometimes I feel like I’m going to split apart if I don’t just scream obscenities as loud as I can. But then when I think about actually doing it, I chicken out. I don’t know if it’s fear or embarrassment, but something always stops me. I don’t like being loud. If I could whisper all the time I think I would.

Writing helps. It’s feels like whispering to me. Whispering on paper. Or rather whispering on the keyboard. Typing sounds like whispering a little, don’t you think? Cutting paper sounds like whispering too. And so does cutting hair.

I’m obsessed with the sound of scissors cutting hair. It’s different than the sound of scissors on paper. It’s also the reason why my hair hasn’t been past my shoulders in years. Once I start cutting I just can’t stop. And then it’s so short and messed up that the only thing I have left to do is shave it with the same dull razor I use to shave my legs. I don’t recommend that by the way. Shaving your head like that requires at least one, preferably two, blade changes. And it’s also a bad idea to do it during February in north Idaho. Not one of my smarter moves, but I learned. I waited until September to do it again, after moving to Oregon.

So now I’m in Oregon waiting for my hair to grow out. Whispering because I don’t know how to scream.