My hair is still falling out. Despite the mohawk. Despite the purple. Despite the badass (the word I've heard repeated most often in the wake of my 'do) photos that make me look and feel tougher than I really am.
I am not a superhero. I think one small part of me, the magical-thinking part, looked at those pictures and read all your comments and thought, "You know? They are right. Look at me! I could stop a speeding train if I wanted to."
And then more hair came out in my hands this morning. Purple hair. Little sprigs of hair from the sides. Still falling out. Of course it is. Even badass purple hair is no match for the poison being pumped into my body to try to kill another poison already in there.
I have no superpowers. My hair is still falling out. I still have cancer.
And worst of all, this: Hudson is still gone.