Friendship is so strange, you hardly notice once you’ve started bonding. It’s as if out of nowhere my mind can’t ignore you anymore. Oh I’ve definitely noticed you, touched you in the hallways to make sure you were real. Even oiled my hands before intentionally high fiving you that one time, I had to know if you would shine. You shone, and you weren’t mad. I remember you telling me how you thought that was fun and we should do it again.
My kind of crazy, see friendship needs space to breathe and grow organically and like hair it requires a lot of patience. Especially if you intentionally decide to grow it out. Like friendship there comes a time when the friendship hurts, it simply has to hurt. A broken comb as I attempt to tame my mane. A broken heart as you have your first fight.
It’s either this hair ain’t working or perhaps this friendship ain’t working. Whatever the case, it ain’t working. Snap. Goes the thread of a bond, another time perhaps. Or we see long and hard and figure out a way to keep moving forward. Even though it’s a with a stray mane or a wayward friend who we need to figure out.
Water + shampoo/oil + hands seems to be an exquisite mixture to get things done. Always rinse your hair with Gods natural element that is filled with many uses for in the world. Use this same water as a mirror of reflection when you have a fight, figure out your role and work in the fight and how you can make a recompense.
Shampoo or oil because getting clean and moisturized makes one feel refreshed. You can never expect the friendship or hair to remain the same. Embrace the change and learn it, that’s all we really can do. Learn and try to balance and pray to God that you land safely. And repeat.
Hands because handshakes and hugs have the power to heal. Hands because your head loves the attention. Hands because when you’re alone and trying to make sense of the world your hair stretches its hand and offers itself a canvas with which to paint. A tunnel of distraction from the afflictions of the moment. A cheerleader on days when nothing made sense except looking into the mirror and realising, you are you! When you close your eyes and see yourself, do you look like you?
And as one cycle ends another starts. The circle of life in full effect. I used hair as a representation because for some reason black hair catches a lot of smoke for having this dirty perception. It’s like we don’t carry crowns on our heads, or something. So we cut it up because thats the “clean acceptable look” I don’t know much about anything but collectively it feels like we focus on all the wrong things.
I want a society where my crown doesn’t define who I am or what I look like. So that I can have crazy hair that defines me and not have it affect what society thinks. And for society to look at someone with funky fair and not jump to any other conclusion than, “how wonderfully odd”. For it will be odd and that is what is beautiful.
Now on my merry way I shall go.
But to be free of one Ill we must also be ready to fight all the other ills that seriously plague our societies but it’s easier to speak on being different than on actually living it. I know, I’ve failed twice. Who am I to speak. No one, just a guy venting about how confused the world is and how misplaced society is. Oh and I did it all while eulogising my beautiful mane. You were a lot of fun and now I don’t know what to do with what’s growing out of my head. Defeated!
Love your friends like you will never see them again. Go all in so that when that relationship comes to its end, it shall have been beautiful.
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