Rooted, I used to think.

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Thursday, May. 26, 2022 @ 11:27 pm
Two Weeks In

I dreamed that Daniel walked towards me with a pair of scissors and proceeded to lop off my braid that falls in front of my right shoulder.

I watched the scissors cut through the thickness of brown and gold, and then when it was no longer a part of me, he stepped away, holding that piece of myself in his closed fist.

I'm now considering lopping the thing off myself. The weight of it, my vanity, the impracticality of its impossible length.

I kept it tied up for my first week of work, afraid to show how long I keep it, how it's not been professionally cut in over two years. And then yesterday I wore it down, the length of it catching under my arm in a familiarly annoying way and it was a sigh of relief, my muscles unclenching, when I showed up as myself.

Roots | Shoots