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My curse is that I can never get my hair to behave itself. And to tell the truth, I honestly could care less, though I have a nagging voice in the back of my mind that tells me I should care a lot, but I ignore it most of the time.

Hmm… You’re probably wondering what color my hair is. It’s brown, with teal streaks in it at the moment. It’s not amber, it’s not brunette (whatever that means), not blonde-brown. It’s brown. Plain and simple.

However, I like to think that it is the color of loam, the color of the forest floor beneath all the forest beauties such as sword ferns, violets, and Oregon salal. That’s how my mind works; I take the simple things and make them into a thing of adventure within my imagination.

In my mind I am a fairy. I must be a fairy since my hair is streaked with all hues of blue, peeking out from the brown. (Well, actually I got it done in a hair salon, one of the few times I’ve actually been to one. But we’ll pretend that it’s because I am a fairy). I must be a fairy since my hair is always wild and can never be tamed.

Fairies are untamable. Did you know that? Well, if you didn’t, now you know. Never try to tame one; they will just get mad at you. And whatever you do, don’t try to conform them to being ‘human,’ it’s impossible.

It’s as impossible as me trying to get my hair to ever be tame and still remain its natural and beautiful self.

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