Once again, I was slapped in the face by reality. Cute boy at Starbucks has a gal. Oh, how heartbreaking! He had an important role in my fantasy world. Of course, I don't actually care but I pretend to be envious at the sight of them, occasionally giving her death looks when our eyes meet. When I become bored of pretending I take another sip, and try to find something else to keep me preoccupied. My earphones are still broken so I'm forced to acknowledge the real world. Nearby a couple are on a first date. I eavesdrop on their boring exchange of information, and wonder how my first date would have been if Ryan and I had done the conventional thing. We went to one of Montreal's many outdoor music festivals. It was raining and I vomited twice from the mix of whiskey and a Big 10. I recreate my first date, but now change the scene to a Starbucks and we are both sober. I make up a conversation we would have exchanged, and decide that I like my real first date better. I look at cute Starbucks boy and his girlfriend, then I look at the couple nearby. For no reason, I become anxious. I rationalize it by saying, it's probably the three cups of coffee you had this morning. That does not help. I hear mothers with their children, I hear business men order coffee and everything irritates me. All I can think about is the amount of school work I have and how I will not finish it. I think of the last time I had sex. Three weeks ago?! I feel deprived of energy, motivation, sleep and sexual pleasure. I look up at the clock and notice it's time to start my exciting shift at the hair salon next door. I've realized that like most things in my life, my job is very extreme. Most days there is no escape from the nagging hairdressers, bitching parents, screaming kids and crying toddlers. When I arrive to work that morning it was dead. Silent. The stillness absolutely driving me insane. All I can hear are my anxious thoughts that tagged along from next door. Although my big black chair at the reception is incredibly comfortable, my behind is buzzing. Get up! I unfold towels just to fold them again. I vacuum the carpet. Two times. Once more, I see some hairs. Windex the mirrors. Take out the garbage, although the bags aren't full yet. Make the papers for tomorrow. Hell, I might as well do the whole week. I truly need something to happen. What can get rid of this sudden panic? And yet the answer is so obvious. I sit and she says Darling, you're brave Why, yes I am! I look down onto the floor at my pretty little curls and locks. I run my hand through the few inches that are left on my head. This is real. A small spontaneous action that relieved the panic that comes with an unsatisfied and structured life. I chopped off eight inches, but I feel as if I got rid of a ton.