Dear First Strand Of White Hair, I don't know when you grew up. You grew up even before I did. At first, I couldn't see you until my parlour aunty spotted you hiding behind others. I ask why. When you can shine over others, why'd you hide. But that's okay. I understand. You think, I'm ashamed of you. You don't know how proud of you I am, you stupid grown up. You're one of a kind. Everytime I visit the parlour, parlour aunty tells me to chop you off, but I say no. You're so precious to me. Do you know people don't live enough to have you? I'm lucky to have you. You're a treasure. Don't worry. Stay there without any stress. It's a safe place. Before you know, you will have a bunch of friends around you. You all will be like a family. You all will rule over my head one day. You being the oldest amongst them will stand out just like you do now. You will be their first generation. They'll look up to you, just like my eyebrows a...
By starting this blog, I opened a new window to the number of tabs left open in my mind. Here's a warm welcome to my new happy place.