To my relaxed ends,
I used to cherish you. You were what made me beautiful. You were like my crown, and who is a queen without such? Although cold and lifeless, you made me feel superior, worthy and essential. Unjustifiably so.
But you began to leave me. Little by little you fell out like the dandelion seeds I wished on as a child, but you had been just that, a weed, and like most weeds you invaded. Although not cracks in the sidewalk nor eloquently landscaped stone, it was the minor fracture in my sense of self-worth you that you invaded. I was nothing without you, yet nothing with you. You suffocated my authentic spirit with an ego large enough to judge those dissimilar to me, and self-righteous enough to feel justified.
You became a leach and a crutch, draining me of the intrinsic beauty of my character as I depended on you for superficial self-reassurance. No longer would relaxed ends chain me to a selfish, insensitive and pretentious demeanor.
After realizing this, I grew the courage to cut you down, and from your ashes grew an immaculate, cotton-soft and silky bushel of coffee brown curls. They did not define me but complimented me; my self-worth did not depend on them, but rather enjoyed their company. With or without them, I would still be the sassy, rational and resourceful, powerful yet amiable, serious, but never taken too seriously, child of God. This is who I found myself to be. With relaxed ends or curls, with a mohawk or a fade, with a sew-in or crochets, I will be genuine to myself, and I will be confident in it.
Sincerely,
The real me