I stood in front of my bathroom sink, staring into the mirror for the longest time before I reached for the hairstyling scissors in my make-up bag. Though it’s not much of a change, I trimmed my growing bangs, ridding myself of the curtain of hair that covered my eyes when let down. It seems like this is a habit of mine..no. Not habit. It’s more like a way of dealing with the current situations in my life that plummet me into an emotional state.. I always change my appearance (or at least, attempt to) whenever I’m in a weird emotional stump. Tattoos, piercings..though hair is the best (and oftentimes cheapest) way of expressing my inner sentimental self. Think of every one of my physical altercation as a changing color of a mood ring.
Yup, that’s me. Hannah Renee Joan d’Arc Song, the chameleon of the human condition.
