It's me, in the far back.
Ummm, I don't know if you've ever noticed, given your rough treatment of me, but I am fine and dainty. Like a flower. Or a butterfly wing. Or.... you know that white stuff inside of couch cushions that comes apart? Well like that stuff, I will break the hell apart, nary to return.
You've hurt me. I don't know why you keep thinking I am going to join that ponytail over there, or that bun up there, but, NO. I will not. Maybe ever. It's just not my thing.
I'm too dainty for that. I like to feel the wind twirl me about. But I HATE your collar. And your shirt. Kind of a contradiction I know, being that I wont go in the ponytail either.
I can't help you figure this out, but I can tell you that you've really insulted me this time.
Those bristles hurt, and the gel makes it really hard for me to breath. I just want to be myself and I'm not really interested in your agenda.
Please stop hurting me so. I'm already much shorter than the rest of your hair. Do you want to get rid of me entirely? How would that look now....? right. NOT cute. But that is what's going to happen.
This is a warning.
From the far back.
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