This is Taylor, all of her.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Taylor always knew she was beautiful, but that didn't stop her from hating her hair. It was just so... full and bouncy. It had too much volume, too much depth. And depth meant everything was complicated, that there was room for more truths to exist. Depth meant nothing was easy. And Taylor lived for easy.
She painstakingly ironed her hair flat, everyday. This Taylor, with the flat, even hair could be ditzy and stupid and one-dimensional. Everyone saw the only layer she had, making day-to-day life easy living. At least, that's what she told herself.
Each time she irons her hair, compressing the layers into one, the kinks into straight, lifeless lines, Taylor cries a little. From the heat when she clips her ear, she told herself. She never clips her ear.
On the island, she panicked over the no shower and lack of electricity. She had been straightening her hair for so long, she had forgotten why she did it. She freaked out because she needed to be clean and to look nice. That's what she told herself.
Time passes, in a whirl of sunsets and sunrises. She no longer cares about the lack of electricity. Her hair is all over the place, and it would take her hours to untangle her knots. But she doesn't have the time. Or really care.
Along with the return of her wild mane, so have all the different parts of herself. The sad her. The scared her. The thoughtful her. The selfless her.
So, no she doesn't really care anymore, because maybe, just maybe, layers and complications aren't that bad. She looks up to the one person with more problems than her, the one person who puts them on display without fanfare. It had hurt so much the first few times to look at the pain and the tangled mess of his life. And then it got easier.
It got easier the day she welcomed her own layers back.
Then the plane came, and her hair whips around her face, obscuring her vision in a thicket of hair. They all laughed and cried together, and she leaned on him, trying not to panic at the height. She reaches out with all that she is, every last layer, trying to hold onto as much of him as she can.
The first thing Taylor does after she gets home is shower. She lets the water cascade over her, matting the thicket of hair. And she shuts off the shower. She trembles, cold, at the thought of anything weighing down her hair, smoothing the curls and kinks. She vows to never iron her hair again. It would hurt too much to go back to being layerless.
So for weeks in school, her hair is wild, and old friends tease, but she smiles and says she like it like that. She luxuriates in the feeling of being all of her, and letting everyone else see. Then she bumps into him in the hallway one day, with his arms around Her waist. And something snaps inside Taylor, some hope that had grown dimmer the longer she had been back in reality.
The next day, she comes to school with her hair ironed.
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Added 4/23/08. REVIEW PLEASE! Thanks.