it, I felt naked. Exposed. Like every insecurity I had was suddenly on display.
“It’s just hair,” people said. “It’ll grow back.”
But they didn’t get it. It wasn’t just hair. It was my identity.
The Loneliest Season of My Life
In the weeks that followed, I withdrew. I wore hoodies with large hoods to hide my head. I sat alone at lunch. I stopped raising my hand in class. My grades slipped. Teachers asked if everything was okay at home. I nodded, smiled, lied.
At home, Mom didn’t notice—
