And she’ll start to lose her hair. The doctor’s voice echoes through my mind; I knew this was coming, knew it was going to happen, but still. I didn’t really think it would…

I hate the tears dripping down my face. It’s just hair! Wouldn’t I rather have my life then my hair? But still, lifting the silky, light brown strands from my pillow, I can’t help but feel the ache inside. It’s such a little thing, but it’s the one thing that will make people laugh. It’s the one thing that will tell everyone what’s wrong with me.

I didn’t cry when they told me I needed to start chemotherapy. I didn’t cry when I began to lose weight. I didn’t even cry when I realized that I’d lost weight to the point of almost looking emaciated. But now, now that my hair is falling out onto my pillow, I cry.

I run my fingers through what is left on my head, and cry harder when I see that they have pulled more out with them. It’s just hair! But somehow, it’s the worst thing that could happen.

Teenage girls don’t lose their hair…