I lost a hair band today at the gym. It was one of the few things I held sentimental feelings for. All of my hairbands are brown. Dull, worn out, used, ordinary. But I have one that a kind old lady gave to me. It is beige and has a golden circle on it, and a golden ladybug. When I got my wisdom teeth out, I asked for drugs to quiet my biggest fear; needles. So, I got valium. But, the doctors were late getting me in, and the valium was all but worn out by the time I got into the office. I started freaking out a little and told the woman next to me about my worries because my dad had stopped listening to my anxieties long ago. So, the woman gave me a hairband. It might have meant nothing to her. But to me, it was a rare form of kindness. It was a light in the dark. A candle at midnight. I went into my surgery and I was crying and screaming nonetheless, but I still remember her. That was last year. I kept that hairband until today when I lost it. I had it and then I didn't. I was in the room where it had disappeared in at the gym, but I couldn't find it. I was visibly worried and looking around, but my dad just angrily passed by and yelled at me to get out and asked rhetorically why I was still in there but left before I could answer. Then he came back when I didn't scurry after him, and more angrily asked/told me to leave. So I left. My hairband. One of my few happy memories. I left to go back to a lonely house, a dark room, and a sad future with one less reminder of human kindness.
And maybe I'm making too big a deal out of it. I already have depression, so it's not like that isn't true about everything I do and feel. I mean it was just a hairband, right? I have a bunch of hairbands. I really do. But I'll never find one like that again. One with a golden ladybug and a beige band. One with a memory attached. That's what made it truly irreplaceable.