you know when you decide that you need a hair cut and then all you can think about is that your hair needs cutting? every pair of scissors becomes a temptation to do the deed yourself. every glance in the mirror in the mornings seems to be your split ends mocking you. your bangs keep falling down into your eyes rendering you temporarily blinded every time you look left too quickly. every girl with short hair that walks by seems to be taunting the ragged mop on your head that you used to call a hairstyle.
this is my current predicament.
please come hide the scissors in my apartment.
well, maybe i'll just trim a bit off....
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