Right Hair

I never thought I belonged here anyway. I hate patterns. I just can’t say how much I hate it.

In my society everybody combs their hair to the right. EVERYBODY. From the moment you’re born till the moment you die your hair must be combed to the right. Well, not me. I rather comb my hair to the left.

Every single time I’m walking on the street people are staring at me. I hate this.

But then, everything changed when I met her. She also is not like the others. I mean… her hair is also to the right. But it’s not combed. It’s brushed.

Every time we hang out together it’s the same thing, people can’t stop talking about us. Rumoring, Gossiping… It’s ill. It’s even worse of what they talk about bald people.

She can’t accept all this voices in her head, that’s when she comes up with an idea. A lovely idea.

That’s why now, I’m preparing my rope next to hers. That’s why I’m climbing the chair and putting my head inside the circumference. That’s why I kick the chair right after.

That’s because I’m different. My hair is different. People don’t accept me. And I’m tired of li…