("shouting the poetic truths of high school journal keepers"*; or, The Ultimate Blogpost

My hair had become long again, as long as it was when I graduated from high school. Seattle long, fifteen months long. Then, after kvetching about its inconveniences endlessly, I paid a young person named Steffi fourteen Euros to cut it all off, leaving only fifteen sleek millimeters around the sides and back. Precision. Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz. Catharsis by haircut; feels great out.

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