Knots and Chaos: The Great Morning Hair Showdown

Exam week a true terror for students, is what I was experiencing now. The world outside became a distant spectacle. The feeling of revising everything on last day regardless of how many times before I have revised, held strong. The unnecessary stress that I was putting on myself both consciously and knowingly was starting to make my neck hurt and brain ready to explode. Thinking of a 5 minute break I headed to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk.

Heading back to my bedroom, I knew I wouldn't be able to study any more. I have reached my max mental learning capacity today. Closing the books that I have already gone through 10 times, I put it aside and hit the bed. Pulling over the warm comforters gave me a sense of warm embrace. A lulling sensation was making me drift of, another part of mind brain filled my mind with thoughts life what if I forgot, what if I didn't remember to do a specific thing which making my body tense up.

Regardless to say I slept fitfully through the night. My eye opened and I grabbed the alarm clock from the bedside table, it showed 4:00 am. Realizing I have woken up before my alarm rang. Knowing I would not be able to go back to sleep. I left the warmth of my bed to prepare for the new day.

After a simple breakfast, I grabbed my textbooks and sat by the open window sifting through the pages to see if I missed anything. I didn't realise but quite sometime has passed and now the morning light was hitting me straight in the eye. Glancing at the clock to see the time, I saw it showing 7:30 am. Closing the book I headed to my bedroom to get ready. Putting on my uniform, I headed towards the dresser and saw a great terror, 'Hair Disaster'.

I didn't have the time to deal with this, talk about bad timing. Picture this: waking up early, finding satisfaction that you have completed the revision, and are ready to conquer the day, only to find the once tamed locks staging a rebellion of their own, a tangled mess reminiscent of a bird's nest defying any attempts at rationalization. You realize you are facing a major road bump in your journey and you can't continue until you have sorted this mess. My patience was staring to run thin and my optimism was waning. Still I grabbed my comb, sectioned my hair and started working from bottom to top. Each tug and pull was testing my resolve, each strand of hair seemed to be possessed by a mischievous spirit that was trying to resist all entreaties for order. The valiant fight of knots and tangles against the forces of grooming was making the time pass faster and faster.

Panicking I glanced at the clock, the minutes were ticking by relentlessly reminding of time slipping away and the pressure intensifying. A battle was waging in my mind between determination and exasperation, as I tried to tame the untamed, all while the clock races. In my frantic attempts to salvage my coiffure I realized I was halfway done. I was becoming desperate with each tick-tock and was contemplating a possibility of a drastic measure -- perhaps a cap or a messy bun or a hastily assembled ponytail but realized none of it would work. A neat appearance is essential for good performance in the exam.

Mustering and strengthening my resolve and resilience, I began working on my hair. I was done with my hair just in time, putting it pack in a beat ponytail with light massage to sooth my poor scalp. It registered in my mind that I have emerged from the battleground with a semblance of presentability. Grabbing my bag and locking my door I jogged to catch the bus.

Now sitting in the bus as I was writing my morning experience to share with all on medium, I ascertained that in the skirmish of style, patience is the first casualty, followed closely by optimism. Reminding that not everthing is always perfect or always have to be perfect -- an acknowledgement that not every morning will bow to perfection and sometimes it is up to us to make it perfect or embrace the imperfect.

The hair disaster becomes a tale of fortitude, a narrative whispered in hushed conversations among friends who share the universal battle cry: "Mornings, where hair meets havoc."