Sleepwalking my way through life: And your hair is SO much better.



And your hair is SO much better.

"I like your hair!" she shouted at me with a toothy smile that brought beautifully crafted sarcasm. She was referring to the fluffy thing that resided on my head as a result of the rain.

"And I like that huge gap in your teeth, now get the fuck out of my way." I was in no mood for anything, not even a random tween who decided to try and bring some light to my day. Yes, because it's fun to trapese around the town centre in tiaras and talking to strangers!

I had went to pick up my kilt at one but they hadn't received all of the accessories yet, so I had to come back in half an hour. Half an hour later they told me to come back in half an hour.

So I decided to pass the time by walking through the town centre, where I encountered the wondrous hair critic. I also waved to a friend who didn't see me, walked into a friend who I didn't see and got hounded by some kids outside of the off-license.

"Hey man, can ya get me ma carry oot?" he asked, holding his cigarette to the side and blowing smoke in my face. He was with three other people, a guy whose hair was blindingly shiny, and two girls, one of which wearing a tube-top where her assets threatened to poke out on either end.

"Sorry, I can't." I said, walking on.

"C'mon! We can give you a bit if you want."

"No thanks." I replied, walking faster. He started to come after me.

"Why not?! You're fucking old enough!"

I turned round, "I don't have my fucking ID with me."

He stopped and looked at me as I glared back at him. "Ok."

I picked up my kilt outfit and dragged it home in the rain. I kept having to switch hands as I was walking, it was bloody heavy. But it's worth it, it looks really amazing and I look so much older in it.

Prom, here I come.
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