This morning, I took some time to examine my original crown: my afro. It's been growing steadily for about a year. I love my hair. Taking care of it is a bitch, nevertheless.
I started growing my hair out to be the physical representation of rebellion. It worked. Mom hated it. Lol. People deal with it. I think I look great with it, so long as I maintain it.
I havent been maintaining it. Haven't found a reason to. I'm not trying to impress anyone who doesn't already know. I still, however, know the quality of my hair could be better
I just don't want to cut it! I want to try to grow it out for as long as I can! Plus, it's a passion 'fro. Meaning, my hair bespeaks my fortitude. I like to think I have a whole family stored away. But as time passes, my interest becomes less in starting a family and more into sustaining a happy, secure life for myself.
Which could mean Daft is fucked.
I haven't been ignoring The Sphinx. I'm just trying to buy a plane ticket out there.
Don't worry, Egypt. I'm still loyal. It's these political soul ties I have to worry about.
We're clear that aliens exists. And that they exist as SEGA. It only begs the question,
"Is he still King?"
