My hair is my everything: my best friend, my mentor, my moral compass.

I've been college, but to be truthfully frank, weed is knowledge because it makes me think

I often yearn to regress into a state that's slightly more atavistic than my decades of conditioning generally allow, but it's difficult to let go of those reigns.

It also makes me worry about photos of me that exist that I might not even know about. How do I appear in these unwitting photographs? Who is taking them, without my knowledge or consent, and from where?

Got more milky syllables than alphabet cereals.

My hair is my everything: my best friend, my mentor, my moral compass.

Seeing a photograph of myself is often pretty jarring. Why is it that the vision I see of myself in a photo is so different than the one I see in a mirror - not to mention the "self" that I see in my mind's eye? Pondering it can pretty easily cast me into a vortex of self-doubt, wondering how the me that people experience - my voice, my personality, my creative expression - is regarded without my knowledge.