Don't Trich Me

Chapter One: Intro

Pulling. That's all I've done for he last seven years. Pulling.

When we get back from break and people ask "what have you been doing this summer"? I'm tempted to say, "pulling".

But I can't.

I can't tell people this.

It's disgusting.

Well, not for me anyway. People don't understand. For us pullers, it feels completely normal. We barley know any different. But people who don't pull... can be pretty judge mental. And I hate it.

I should probably introduce myself. My name is Aubrey Ohara. I'm 14 and I live in New York City. I want to live somewhere simpler, somewhere where you can look out your window in the car ride and just see nothing but grass and land. Not buildings, cars, and crowds.

Just somewhere when I'm feeling stressed I can just look out my bedroom window and just see pure peace.

I'm not sure if I've ever seen pure peace. Yes, some days the city may be calmer than the last, but it will never compare to the country side. When I grow up, that's where I'm moving. The country.

I might even buy a horse. I've always wanted a horse. Just to ride it across a field and never stop. But there's no place to do that here.

I've lived here all my life. No where else. Sure, we've moved from apartment building to apartment building, but the same city. We haven't even lived in another part of New York before. I hate it. But for some reason, my mom loves it. And I hate that too.

Sure there are plenty of tourist attractions such as the Stature of Liberty, Empire State Building, the 9/11 memorial, MoMA museum, etc. But I don't care about that. Sure they are cool and all, but I've seen it all.

Anyway, enough of my rant about the city. As you know, I pull my hair out. This is called trichotillomania. Trichotillomania is where you pull your hair out of any place on you body with hair. I pull my lashes, eyebrows, and the hair off my scalp.

Trich (for short) is an impulse control disorder. It can also be classified as and obsessive compulsion disorder. Usually, us trichers pull our hair out on a regular basis. It can result in extreme or little hair loss.

I have had this disorder for half of my life. 7 years. I've grown up with it, and I'm sadly used to it. No matter what I do, or how many times I may stop, it will always come back. And I hate it.

I hate that I do this to myself. I hate that people dot. Understand. "Just stop pulling". "Just put your hands down". Um.... Don't you think if I could I would?! That's is the problem, I cast! I can't control myself, I can't stop.

I hate it.

I have to cover it up everyday. Lots of eyeliner. Filling in the eyebrows. Making everything seems as unnoticeable as possible. I hate that I can't walk out of the house without a care anymore. I hate HAVING to wear makeup. Sometimes I just want to feel natural and not have to wear odd chemicals and products on my skin.

I miss it.

I can't even wear mascara because of the awful gaps in my eyelashes.

People won't understand.

No one does.

I'm alone.

All alone.

A/N

That was my first chapter of Don't Trich Me. I hope it was okay. It was short, I know, but it was kind of like an intro sort of thing.

Btw... this story is fictional! (Based off a real condition)

Please stay tuned for the next chapter!

~Adriana