I want to be able to control my hair.

My hair always flops down like it has given up on life.

But when I wake up, it looks as majestic as a flying unicorn shitting out rainbows.

Hair, why? Why do you resent me so?

What have I ever done to you?

I wish you would tell me what’s wrong.

We’re living together. We might as well cooperate.

Or, if you don’t. Then I will have to make you do my bidding.

 

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