I’ve been feeling really confident about my sense of self lately. More and more often, there’s a part of looking in the mirror where I really feel like I’m looking at someone who is truly, authentically me. Sometimes I may whine-text to my boyfriend about the stupidest things or internally scream now-familiar sentences like “GOD WHY DID I EVER CHOOSE GOING TO COLLEGE IN OHIO,” but when my head swings back around, I’m really happy with where I am and what I’m doing…especially since it finally feels like I’m actually doing things. I think about my early, long-winded blog posts and think, wow, I was so pent up! I care less about how others see me now. Am I still a little precocious? Yes. But I’m not pretentious.

And then there’s my hair, as dumb as that sounds. But hair is a important part of one’s identity, and that notion has been on my mind considering how much my life has changed lately. I love being a blonde, and my roots, while untouched since September, aren’t as bad as I expected them to be. My grown-out bangs are pretty nice, and I’m dealing with the length as well as I can despite the existential crisis I go through every time I try to straighten it and it doesn’t turn out perfect. Yet there’s a part of me that longs for change. I NEEEED change.

Initially I thought about strawberry blonde for something not so dramatic and since I’ve always wanted a full head of red hair (though I don’t feel quite ready for it yet). But I’ve been thinking harder. Sophia, you know you can dye it aaaany color you’d like. You’re still in your young-n’-dumb phase. You’re allowed to do weird shit with your hair and make awful choices about it. The world is your oyster, man. Give it a little more than a trim. Give it a LOT more than a trim. Red. Brown. Multiple colors mixed together. BLACK.

The options seem endless. But I don’t do wigs, so I can only pick one. Maybe the independent life is making me psycho. Hair-psycho.