I see dead ends.

I got a haircut last November at this cute little place that a friend of mine from church owns. It was a great haircut.

I think I need to go back.

Because this is what I do. I sit at work. On the train. On the couch. At church. Wherever. And I pull my split ends. I find an odd sense of exhilaration from it. I love it. I am addicted to it?

I get upset when people walk by my desk right when I've found a particularly good one, but I can't be found out. So I drop it. With all those strands of hair, you think I'll ever find it again? UGH!

I have realized how bad I am. So I decided to take a tip I read in Real Simple Magazine and trim off the ends. I didn't want to upset my long, luscious layers, so I just trimmed the bottom layer straight across. It helped...for a little bit. But now I'm searching through the layers for those precious little Easter eggs. It's a problem.

So I figured I'd get a haircut! But naw...I decided to allocate that money towards crossing something off my list in a moment of spontaneity earlier today. But maybe, subconsciously, I'm trying to prolong the moment that me and my split ends...split.

Am I alone in this obsession?!