I look at myself in the mirror as I reach for the scissors. My face tear stained, I know what I have to do. Slowly, I lift the sharp scissors towards my pony tail and in one swift sweep I cut my sorrows away. Every snip freeing me from my numbness. At that moment I loathed reality and its' tedious lack of control; It can't be shaped how I wish like clay but instead drags me like a dog on a collar. By cutting my hair that night I freed myself from the worlds tight grip on me.