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Sometimes, I look down at how long my hair is - run my fingers through it to the very ends - and wonder how long it's been with me. How many years of life brush my shoulders every day? How many tears have rolled down these strands? How many times have I anxiously twirled my fingers around these locks in anticipation of seeing someone I loved? Perhaps my soul is far too sentimental but I guess I wouldn't have it any other way.

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Jordyn Mart

February 2017

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