I can't walk with the same hairstyle for more than a week. If suddenly my hair becomes straight, smooth, shiny - it means I have everything under control. I eat broccoli for dinner, go to bed on time and even iron T-shirts.

But if you see me with a disheveled bun, with strands falling out or wild curls - know that the rebel in me has awakened. I can eat pizza right in bed. Text my friend "let's go dancing" on Wednesday night. Send a message that I have been putting off for months.

When I want a change, I start with my hair. I cut my bangs (I hate them later, but I'm still happy with them). I dyed them copper once, then went back to my natural dark color - and that was a sign that I had returned to myself.

They say hair doesn't think. But I think it knows everything about me. It has seen my tears in the bathroom. It absorbs the smells of coffee, my friends' cigarettes, and other people's perfumes on the bus. It knows who I hugged yesterday and what mood I woke up in today.

And, you know, I don't want to be that girl who always has perfect curls. It's more important for me to be real - with hair that will tell you everything without words.