What it is like, you see, is that feeling you get when you have—through several fluctuations of decision and neglect—let your hair grow too long, and it has taken to curling over your ears in a way that you dislike, and scratching the back of your neck so that you are never cool even when the wind kisses past. Dull and dry because it is not only dead now but old, too, it hangs heavy on your person like something you begin to want desperately to lose.

It’s not hard to fix that feeling. You just have to be brave, find a pair of scissors, and snip.