People are like hair.

I had a revelation while I was sitting on my floor doing nothing. I was on my side, staring at an oddly colored wad of dust and cat fur. Then, I focused on a lock of my hair that had fallen in front of my face for no particular reason. I began to wonder why hair does that- you know, fall in locks. I started thinking, maybe strands of hair have friends. Maybe those groups of friends are locks of hair. 

Wait.

OH MY GOD.

And that's when I had my revelation.

PEOPLE ARE LIKE HAIR.
THINK ABOUT IT! (Unless you're bald. Then this may be a little sad to think about. I still love you though.)

Imagine your scalp is the earth. Every strand of hair on your head is a human.

Locks of hair are like groups of friends. They're all different strands of hair, but they move the same way and if you pull them apart, they just end up springing back together.

Then, there's people who dye their hair. Think of every hair that's been dyed as a generation. Then, your roots start growing in. That's like a new generation of people, or babies or whatever, that must be nurtured and taught and trained to be part of society (which means being dyed again.)

Then there are those super fabbity fab flyaway hairs. You know, those single strands of hair that just really want to be a mohawk when you're trying to put your hair in a bun. Those hairs, you can probably guess, are the oddballs of society. *COUGH COUGH COUGH HI THERE*. They just don't need to join with any group of friends. They don't even need to conform with the shape of the rest of the world. They're just out there, being themselves. They don't care if the world doesn't like them.

So, there's you have it. Your daily dose of weird ass philosophy.

Have a good day, and DICK. (Don't Itch Cat Knuckles)