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.