Dear fringe...

Dear Fringe,

When it started I thought we had something special. You made me feel skinnier, prettier and younger than I had done in ages. You wanted so much, so fast, but that was ok, right? We had the whole summer. I thought we were going to be like Kate Moss and Docherty in the halcyon days of 2005. Maybe we still are. Look how that ended.

You moved onto my face five days ago and I want you gone, you awkward, wonky, serum guzzling fucker.

You might not like what I want to watch on TV, but there's no need to hang over my eyes to stop me watching. That's spiteful. I looked hot in glasses until you came along and made me feel like Dana Carvey in Wayne's World.

I've committed to you. Commitment wasn't my idea. You made me. Why can't you at least show me the same respect. Why do you keep hanging about with my other hair, getting caught up with all the long bits and ruining my look. I'm always chasing you. I never asked to do this much chasing. You don't act like part of my hair cut - you act like a child!

I used to think that maybe we could hang out sometimes, hook up, stay friends without being involved. But I don't think it's going to be like that for us, it's all or nothing. It's not like it was with my last fringe, side fringe.

One day I'll look back at this and laugh. There were some good times, right? But I won't get fooled again. In the meantime, you've got some growing to do.

Love, Daisy