Hair

Every friend is a 

Tragedy

Waiting to happen to you. 

The best friend who moves away and loses touch after her house burned down. 

I dye my hair red. 

The boyfriend who rapes you when you were just a virgin. 

I dye and cut my hair. 

The best friend who fell in love with you but wanted you to choose between him and her. And you could not. 

I grow my hair. 

The best friend you fell in love with while she was dating her dream man. So you fell in love with some little boy who was sweet and poetic and wanted you for one thing and one thing only. 

I cut my hair and dye it vampire red. 

The boyfriend who shares a liter of vodka with you and tries to slit his wrists in the shower in the middle of the night. You are so drunk, barely capable of wresting away the razor blades. You wake up from your stupor ready to continue, to lose yourself in the madness. To commit. But he decides not to come with you. 

I grow my hair and dye it ebony. 

The kindred spirit whose virginity you take knowing he may never recover.  The virgin who gives you one incredible moment of ecstasy before a roaring fire and you realize in that moment you could die and be perfectly content. But you do not die. You follow a separate orbit. 

I cut, dye, cut, and dye my hair. 

The older man who teaches you that there is a pain greater than rape, that wounds go deeper than any man can thrust. 

I grow and dye my hair. 

The girls who teach you how to party. How to separate your body from your soul. How to do things you find morally reprehensible. They teach you how not to care. They teach you a narcissism you never thought you were capable of. 

I cut my hair. Cut my hair. Cut my hair. 

The kindred spirit who shares your darkest secrets and you share hers as though they happened to you both simultaneously. Until the day arrives that you are torn apart by unfathomable odds. 

I grow my hair. 

The sister you unintentionally disavowed. Alone we suffered the heartbreak for years. 

I take my hair back to neutral. Back to its natural state. 

My soulmate broke my heart, so I broke his by carving it out of his chest and burying it alongside mine. 

I cut and bleach my hair. 

I return to neutral. 

I grow and dye my hair. 

I shave my head and buy some wigs. 

I grow my hair. I bleach my hair. I let it grow. 

And now the question is,

Do I let it return to neutral 

(whatever that is these days)

?

Every friendship is...

a Tragedy...

is not THE END. 

Hearts mend as they can 

Heal. 

Souls rebound as they are 

Ephemeral. 

And hair 

grows 

back.