No. Mum. it’s not like that… I didn’t want this to happen; I didn’t ask for it—it was the ponytail that did it. I know you said I should cut my hair and I didn’t because I figured it would be okay if I just pulled it I back into a tail. Lots of guys wear their hair that way and it looks cool. But once I grew it out, it looked so awesome I couldn’t bring myself to cut it. So, it just kept growing and now it’s halfway down my back and I don’t think it’s going to stop there. More and more I can feel it inside my mind. It wants me to… do stuff. Like use hair removal creams and moisturizers on my face and pluck my eye­brows and get eyelash extensions, and put on all this makeup because it wants me to look like a girl.

A pretty ponytail needs a pretty girl—that’s what it told me inside my head. It’s all I can think about. I want to be a pretty girl. I have no choice! That’s why I shaved my legs, and got a boob job and cheek implants, and a tracheal shave. I went to town with your credit card at  Forever 21. If I don’t make myself pretty, I think I’ll die. That’s what the ponytail is telling me right now and you know what? It means business. Mum. It really does. I’m not running the show anymore; the ponytail is in charge. The good news is that it wants me to go to beauty school. Then I’ll be able to get a job and have my own apartment so I can be a girl all the time and the ponytail can grow really long and maybe try to take over the world. Be afraid, be very afraid.

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