I've been sick for as long as I can remember;
which has been quite awhile,
Even longer has it been
since I last saw my mother smile.
But today is different.
I'm finally to be rescued from this bottomless rut,
Today the change comes in the form of a haircut.
I've spent sleepless nights
fantasizing about the style and length,
Mother and Daddy promise that
they wont leave a single penny unspent.
A ponytail, a radical mohawk, a layered fringe maybe?
The haircut that will represent a brand new me.
Strands fall to the floor;
more and more until the final lock,
The barber man keeps snipping and just won't stop.
My new haircut is a bald head.
Mowed spotless with a razor,
The news that has just been broken to me
is that my new life with my new haircut is one of...cancer.
The wind is suddenly
So interested in
She took a long razor
And cream, scraping
And slickly scratching
Under my shortest haircut.
I walk home with worn shoes,
Old music, and skin that’s never
Seen this part of the sun before.
Sheared, it shows
Its fuzzy filaments twisting
And spiraling as the air
Gives it pause.
I think of hands
Pulling back hair for lips.
Pale, quick hands today.
Sweet, dry lips.
she had got a haircut but it had changed nothing. she was still trapped.
men and women walked through rotating doors to malls like animals with cage madness. the world's radars were occupied. people were listening intently to the static with their brains at the knees.
"i'm going to have a shower," she thought. but she knew that things would be the same.
I got a haircut a couple months ago
Just after I had the worst possible month of my life
And I guess it was almost symbolic
Because I was cutting ties and knots in my hair with what I had been killing myself over for the past year.
"A new person.
And she used to be
Her hair is shorter..."
I've always wanted to be different.
I got sick of being compared to
Other girls that all acted and looked the same.
I CRAVED being different.
I craved being the weird one.
I craved doing something unexpected.
Because the world needs a splash of color.
And with that splash,
A ripple effect will come.
It's been my dream to influence others to be themselves,
To be different.
And this is my chance.
Cutting your hair represents making a change in your life.
You came at a perfect time, mom.
You had no way of knowing I wanted to cut my hair,
But all I can say is that it certainly felt like a big change to me.
My shorn locks represent him,
The strands on my skull represent myself.
Separate from one another, never to meet again.
At the end of my seventeenth summer I cut off my hair. Hoping that like my hair, my past would vanish. Though it was a solid method for sometime, hair always grows back. As the sight of my hair became more visible again so did my past. I suppose when you're young that is somewhat inevitable anyways. However I prefer my hair long. All mangled and messy it reflects me as a person. Sadly, I think I'm due for a haircut soon I'm quite tangled in my tangles.
In the fall I started counting down the days until I was by law an "adult".Whatever that even means. All I know is its one letter longer than the word love and, quite possibly a hell of a lot scarier. However looking back on it; I always found myself in a rush to grow up. I just felt like if I got to a new place where, nobody knew me I, for the first time may actually be able to rinse my hair clean of everything I, was ever trying to get rid of -- a hair cut might not even be necessary. Come to think of it, dread locks might have not been the best idea. You know? They leave everything just sitting on the surface.
Anyways, I always wanted to do the opposite of what Peter Pan did. Which of course, was to grow up, but the closer I got to it, the further I began to run from it. It wasn't until I had to go to the doctors alone and, fill out papers that I didn't understand that I realized, adulthood is actually a very freaky and foreign land. The only person that could hold my hand now when I got a shot, was the nurse. Slightly silly it may be but, that's when I realized maybe I'm not as ready as I thought I was to be an adult. My mom always says, no adult woman should ever have hair past their shoulders. I've always found it strange how she thinks that. Come to think of it, they have a lot more pages in their past then I do. So maybe if you don't let it grow, maybe your past really does vanish. But if having long hair means I'm not a full blown adult yet I'm okay with that.