The hair color change seemed like the most reasonable thing to do following the massive trauma I had endured and considering how battered my ego was from the whole ordeal.
My anxiety was palpable. I can still feel it radiating from behind my smirk in this photo.
(Eyes look like MK Ultra -- Lupe Fiasco voice)
So, I refused to accept that I had failed miserably at something I once wanted profoundly and the blonde hair became a great tool I utilized for avoidance of that daunting fact (e.g., I portrayed myself as being problem-less, denied occurrences to cope, etc.).
I eventually admitted that my effort was trivial. I also found it more stressful to try escaping reality than facing problems head on, as I was taught to do.
In terms of face value, my thought process was that the hair color change would help me minimize day-to-day interactions with old and new acquaintances (e.g., avoid uncomfortable conversations/small talk) but I ended up appearing more pretentious, so it ultimately maximized attention on me, which was even more exhausting.
I later realized that life is simply not easy; the margin for error is so small that major disappointments and grave consequences are basically inevitable. I'd have to accept that truth and the truths about myself (e.g., I'm not perfect) to start redefining my destiny.
My hair was not the real problem nor solution; the underlying issue here was that other attributes of mine needed to be changed (e.g., my mind).