Facial Hair, My wall

The hair trimmer buzzes softly before you switch it off. Mounds and strands of hair are cluttered around the bathroom counter, you never thought you had so much of it till you see it thrown around like this. You look up into the mirror and see a new face. One you haven't seen in years. The white skin around your chin and side burns are like remenants of skin left under a band aid for too long. Discolored, soggy, sickly looking. Yet, healing took place underneath. It's a lousey metaphor but it works.

There is something more to it though. It's terrifying to see yourself in that new light. It's a new face haunted by such old memories. Inadequacy, failure, despair. It's almost as if a wall has been torn down. The moat around your castle is filled with sand..... Suddenly, you're vulnerable.

I hate vulnerablity, hate change. I want the band aid back. I want my security blanket. I want to be locked away safe from the world. That's what i want, and no amount of advice or conversation can change it.