Each of my friends have different hair. Alissa’s hair is a thick ocean of  brown strands with highlights like the sizzling sun glistening on a glassy ocean. It’s adventurous, yet simple. Alex’s is dark like a clear summer night, reflecting light like stars shining in perfect patterns. It’s sassy, but smooth. Anisia has long waves like a stone thrown on a lake sending rapid ripples to shore. Her hair is calm, and put-together. Sally’s hair is a simple brown like the bark of a comforting tree stump you stop to sit on during a long hike. She pins it into braids that twirl around the back of her head like each crack and crevice in the bark. Her hair is strong, and reliable. Sammy’s is like a dragon’s treasure, all piled up and shimmery. It's colored to perfection and radiates confidence.

But my hair, mine is a collection of curls, uneven and tightly strung. Frizzy, like a fox’s tail, all poofed out and hard to contain. It can’t make up its mind, and it's unpredictable.