there have been multiple occasions now on which i’ve assumed i’ve hit my lowest point. i’m finding i can always, always, go lower, as if my life is a neverending game of Sad Limbo.
so far, my lowest point happened two nights ago. as i stared at my bleeding scalp and the mascara streaming down my face, sobbing so hard i felt like i would vomit, all i wanted in the world was for the lice treatments to work. i felt utterly hopeless — in the face of lice? that’s ridiculous, right? i don’t know. battling disgusting creatures on my head feels like the straw that’s breaking this camel’s back. because no matter how hard my roommates and i are working to overcome it — and believe me, we’re doing everything, and they especially are SAINTS — we could easily fail. and i simply can’t handle the possibility of chronic lice, nor of a shaved head. not this year.