I miss my curls
the unpredictability of every strand of my hair
how each one finds its own convoluted path from wet to dry
I miss the fact that even though every strand has a personality of it’s own and is usually very stubborn
they somehow manage to collectively form a beautiful arrangement each time, as if it were carefully designed from the start
I miss the playfulness in which it interacts with the world…always ready to bounce
and how it responds to the calling of the wind
and humidity
It breaks my heart to tame their wildness
suppress their passion
trim their ruggedness
it breaks my heart to force my strands to conform to one shape
one dull, lifeless, boring shape…no matter how soft and shiny
and why would they comply?
when they can find union autonomously
goingupsidedown 