Disclaimer: Sometimes I do this thing where I talk to the imaginary therapist in my head… It’s nothing to worry about, I promise I’m not actually crazy. Or hearing voices.
Alright Shannon, how are you do- … Why do you look guilty?
Oh god. You cut your own hair again, didn’t you.
No. If anything it was more of a trim. Just to get the dead ends off.
Good god. Your hairdresser is going to SHIT herself.
Not if I don’t tell her. Are therapists allowed to swear? It seems like something you’re not supposed to do.
You always tell her. You can’t take the guilt. She takes one look at your hair, picks up her scissors, and you go and get verbal diarrhea.
I do not! That only happened that one time.
Anyway, what happened to not keeping the scissors in the bathroom?
They weren’t in the bathroom. I had to go find them in my bedroom.
And at no point, when you were digging through drawers, did the little voice in your head say ‘Hm… I probably shouldn’t do this.’
Sure it did. I just ignored it.
What? It looks FINE. Better than fine. It looks like it’s supposed to be like this.