Oh, Life

It's like getting a hair cut.

You always wanted to because you're sick of your long, boring hair.

But it turned out nasty.

You instantly feel cheated, played on.

But you know it's not anyone's fault (not even the hair cutter's).

And the familiar aggravating feeling comes back. Regret.

What Now?

I am befuddled.

There, I finally said it.

I want it but then I don't.

I feel hopeful but then the feeling subsides.

I am thrilled but then frightened.

Mixed emotions, eh?

I don't know.

Go, perplexity.