Small things can affect you in ways you hardly imagine. Like a haircut, for instance.
I’ve never understood all the fuss about hairstyles. For me, hair was always just that — you chop it off and it’ll grow.
So I barely understood the reason for my friends’ reaction when I told them of my plan to chop it off. Because I didn’t feel a thing. Besides, it’s not like I had luscious, beautiful locks or anything. It was just a meagre collection of weak strands that kept losing its quality.
That’s why I wanted to get rid of it. Because every time I saw it, I was overcome with annoyance that I can hardly describe. It was distressing to see my hair fall apart each time I ran my fingers through them.
It took me an unnaturally long time to visit the saloon. The pixie cut it was it to be.
And so it is.
The best part? For the first time in a long time, I like to look at my hair, to caress it, to oil it and to wash it.
I feel happy that it’s so manageable, handy and short. I feel my eyes sparkling at the sight of my hair.
Funny how something as trivial as hair can thrill you. After all, happiness is always just round the corner – if only you know which corner.
The Chaos Within 