Thick hair gothic
The pillow is wet when you wake up. Your hair is still drying. It’s always drying. You washed it 3 days ago and need to wash it again soon. It’s still drying.
All the hair balls in your room seemed to have moved into one corner on their own. You don’t know where they’ve come from or how they keep growing. They feed on each other. Soon it’ll be too big for you to escape.
You comb your fingers through your hair only to pull out a clump of hair. You do it again and another clump comes with it. You do this several times with the same result, but the number of hairs on your head is both constant and infinite.
“At least I’ll be warm in the winter.” You reassure yourself as the sun beats down on your head. Your scalp is melting off, every journey outside is a mistake. The winter will never come.
Ughh my life
