oh my god, how you pronounce the word "through," and i don't know what I'm imagining, but i feel you saying "true"-- it's like singing to drake, "come through, girl; you deserve rounds tonight," but hearing "come true"
i thought once to grow my hair because of this condition to aspire for a gown of the life long kind, societal negotiation of supply & demand of the fairy tale kind. a good bride has a good braid. when my first love hurt me, i cut my hair in the bathroom. i tamed to grow it. only to find the little girl inside my body, snipping chunks of her fine baby hair to my jaw line alone in the bathroom again. i cut my silk every time i want to weep. it is the only thing you have, to shed & sever, and it always comes back to you.