Straight, straight, straight, straight, curly? All I see around me is straight hair. Left and right. Don’t you smell that? Sorry, I am burning of my hair again. I look at the time and it has already been 30 minutes? I just want to fit in. That’s all I wanted.
Why didn’t my genetics allow me to have straight hair and not curly? You only had one job. Why am I the only one in my family with curly hair?
“It’s so beautiful!”
You wouldn’t say that if you had the barbed wire that you call hair.
Why am I so different?
I feel like a factory defect in a perfect world.
“Being different is great!” says the one who doesn’t have to worry about it. They will never understand.
Dang it, not enough hairspray. Time to put it up I guess.
I look at some of the “fakes”. I want to yell “that’s not how it is”. But do I? No. Why would I? I wish my hair could be in those perfect ringlets. Those Ringlets that plastic dolls have. Don’t you? Seems like everyone does.
Don’t we have high standards.
“Is your hair naturally curly?”
That’s a terrible question to ask us. I would never want to have my hair look like it is right now. If I stare any longer, maybe the mirror will break.
“Don’t worry about it, you will grow out of it!” Says that one person we know.
Sure, whatever.
Great, frying my hair again. Don’t mind me, just trying to look normal.
I know you are wearing a facade. I can see through it.
Just like me.
Just like everyone else.
Just like you.
That stung.
Hm, the mirror doesn’t seem to want to break today. Looks a little nice. My hair might even look good today.
“What did you do with your hair? It looks nice!”
I don’t know how to respond but “Thanks”. Maybe it is. Praying to the hair gods for it not to mess up.
“Your hair looks terrific!”
I smile. I guess it does. Maybe different isn’t so bad.
I feel taller.
I looked over to my side, “Don’t worry, things get better. Somehow with the sprinkle of hope they do.”
They smiled.
Straight, straight, straight, straight, curly. I looked down at the straightener and slam the drawer close.
