March 26th

After finishing her chores, Brianna looked in the mirror, wiped the Comet soap of her cheek, and made a decision. Stingy split ends curled awkwardly at her collarbone, and the uneven texture of her hair reminded her of a shaggy dog. It was time for a hair cut; just in time for spring.
She walked in Fantastic Sam's with complete calm and confidence- ready to shed the tangled mess. A hairdresser by the name of Barbara approached her. Barbara was around 50, with a curvy build, and fluffy blonde hair. After sitting Brianna down, she said "Who has beeen cootting zur hair??" She uttered with a heavy Scandanavian accent as she examined Brianna's sloppy, brownish copper locks. Brianna, delited with her quaint, to-the-point, European-esque employee, wasn't offended. Infact, she shamelessly admitted she hadn't been in a salon in months.
Slowly Barbara explained the extent of measures which had to be taken for her damaged-do. A snip here, an evening-out there, and her hair would be almost shoulder-length! Brianna sank into her chair slightly, and her voice revealed hesitation (but on the inside: PANIC!), "I'd like to keep my hair... as long as possible. " Willing to compromise her drastic plans, Barbara accepted this notion.
With this new lump of caution in her throat, Brianna reclined in the sink as Barbara's hands massaged the conditioner out of her hair. All of the sudden, Brianna wished she'd never have come. Through the loud sink faucet, scrubbing, and European accent, Brianna thought she heard, "Zur hair iz so rough! Vee must take more off zan vee planned.". Brianna didn't fight it.
After a half an hour of snipping and small talk, Brianna peered once again into the mirror. Brown, healthy, shoulder-length, even-ended hair looked back at her. And even though hair is just an appendage, Brianna felt cleaner and more youthful than she had felt in a while. She was happy she came.

March 23rd

Brianna got ready for her second bike ride of the season- on the twinkling bright, shining, glorious day it was. Dabbing apricot-hued lipstick on, and applying a hint of peach bronzer to the apples of her cheeks, she smiled at herself, proud of how well she mimicked the summery-sweet day outside. Happiness seemed so far off with the winter weather, and her heart swelled with longing for the joy, bloom and soft heat of April.
Mounting her frosting-pink, spray-painted shwinn, she glided down the driveway, hopping off onto the street. Pumping her legs, she felt strong and free and fast- so wonderful after feeling weak and trapped and slow for the past few weeks. The heave and ho of air through her bosom awakened the feeling of humanity- the raw, welcomed pain in her lungs reminded her that she is such a human, such a living-being. And she was very alive.

March 22nd

The air is just sweet and bright enough to remind her of summer, but the wind brought the last cries of winter. As Brianna jogged down the concrete path, behind the suburban homes and their empty yards, she thought only of which direction to go. She encountered random pedestrians, faces of whom would be long forgotten, and barking dogs, the barks of whom she regarded with no alarm, but mostly she encountered the impact of her size ten jogging shoes on the path below. Jogging is simple for her, and she likes it that way.

March 18th (1)

Jason looks at her. She couldn't have the slightest idea how to solve things, and what to say- but she was certain of her indignance. Brianna felt cheated out of happiness, due to a frustrating series of events between the two. Jason was constantly wrong, and immature and irrational, but there was no choice but to forgive. Everyone else has a horizon of choices, and most people chose to marginalize the things that make them unhealthy. But as he grabbed her wrists, she knew. There is no way to marginalize this boy.