Finding it hard to stop

I've cut my hair in an 80s asymmetrical style to separate myself from suburbia and my age. The foggy mirror about a metre away, no glasses, and blunt scissors - surprisingly, for a short time it looked good - it was of course to work with a green beret I love, that I'd picked up in Sweden in May 2009 - which I've consequently had to wear all season.

When Hamish heard the snipping he came running, as it could have been the pocket-rocket snipping off appendages as he is wont to try; feverish with concentration I snipped fiercely, 'do you really want to do that?' he asked. I didn't, but I couldn't help it; once I'd started I couldn't stop! I'm the same with everything! I sit, long abandoned on the playroom floor, building the lego castle of my childhood dreams for hours, or until the children start to convulse from hunger and desperation, and the guilt gets the better of me - but this takes ages, even though I was brought up a catholic and that kind of guilt is nothing to be scoffed at.

I can't stop a conversation - I just keep going until the other person stops it from becoming a train wreck - often they don't and my reputation as a train wreck conversationalist precedes me. When I start to write something, play the piano, or eat chocolate biscuits I can't stop myself; and when I pick a fight with a family member I can't stop this either! All my common sense flies out the window and I become obsessed with responses, my thoughts consumed with revenge and indignation. In the midst of something I can't stop there is a part of me, albeit small, that screams for reason - but I can't stop. So, to put the kibosh on this exhausting experiment - there is no reasoning with the unreasonable; and next week I'm off to the hairdresser , and I hope she can stop, my new hat needs a slightly longer hair length to work with!

Carmen