My hair is constantly changing, finding its way to deal with the outer world, just like my life. It's uncontrollable. I have to bun it up to make sure it doesn't sway and mess with the wind. I have similar feelings with my life sometimes. It gets out of control and messes itself. No external force required to screw its otherwise sorted condition. Needless to say, I'm the happiest when they are at peace. Given my hair's curly nature, they tend to tangle themselves harder than earphones. And every morning, it's harder to deal with them. I don't remember the last time I oiled them. They don't seem to be affected by my carelessness much. Unlike life, where I take my eyes away for a few moments and it is already a part of a blunder, trying to find the way out. My hair's dark quality seems to make them shine even when they are just being their normal self. It's a no-brainer that both — my life and my hair — are a very similar breed. Both of them doing things their way, without caring much about the consequences they make up for me. Despite all the bullshit, I love them both. My hair for falling down on my shoulder and showing its pretty side. And my life, for letting me know that it's worth living.
