Today was the first day ever that I had no choice but to put my hair up.
Why had nobody ever told me how that feels?
It’s weird. But I got used to it.
Then as I drove my friend’s MX5, I caught a glimpse in the mirror.
Is that what people see?
Old eyes.
Bandanna.
I look like I tried to be cool, but fell into a bucket.
I’ve never been cool.
I dress to feel comfortable, not make a statement.
I’m not a butterfly fresh from the cocoon.
More like a tree planted in the forest with 100 rings centuring it.
Broken branches, cracks, moss.
And the hair?
Something a bird would nest in.