Sunday, March 2, 2014

Pillow Talk


What if I let my hair keep track of time for me instead of my phone, lopped it off before any extra trying experience and let it track my strengthening through its growth. Maybe the most illogically iridescent outlooks were made for the most amusingly impossible situations, so my blessing is its own confusion. When do people become the real kind of people who tuck themselves into taxicabs and work demurely at desks? Will my mind still swim in sine waves when I'm older and I map out an ecosystem or schedule appointments for something that matters? Will I still shiver at night and hold all tension in my toes, strands falling around shoulders whose prior priority was "independence"? And how long will my hair be by the time I can make my own decisions?


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