A Short Mess

its nice to hear the pop and feel the bubble.
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{I like my short hair}

I just got a hair cut that was long due. A haircut just happens to be one of those non-sexual sensational experiences, sort of like opening a book to the correct page or getting goosebumps from a Hans Zimmer track. I don’t dislike long hair, my school musicals always encouraged it. There was an incident during a beautiful performance of ‘Annie’ where this senior’s wig sort of took on a life of its own as it flew across the stage. Ofcourse this edited memory has the wig yelling. “#YOLO“. Maybe there’s a reason my head feels quite light. I don’t know.

My hair is too short for a quiff;a bit disappointed by that. Not that I don’t like short hair; it’s nice and right now it seems to be under control. I know from much experience that tomorrow it’s going to start standing out at odd angles. What I like about long hair is that you can just weigh those stiff peaks down with some more hair by combing it in a precise manner. Unless it’s wet, then it just curls like crazy. Get me? At least it’s not as bad as Monica’s.

My hair, the most rebellious part of me. Geez, I have to get out of the house tomorrow. All in all, some days my mood really depends on how good my hair is. Messy being the default. I might just wake up in the morning in disbelief that I wrote this. *Might* 

P.S. – On another note, I did start writing this between two days as stated in my previous post. You can click here to read that. It has much more depth. I think.   

P.P.S. – I shall sleep (hide) now.

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