It started just around fifteen minutes ago.
I was laying awake, too early to sleep, yet to late to be up at this hour - So, I did what anybody would do...
I listened to some fleetwood mac.
As I heard the beautiful voice of Stevie Nicks, I dreamt about my teenagehood for a moment, remembering how I always wanted such beautiful hair like hers - her fringe always seemed so effortless, yet I was never allowed to have it, kept from my cruel, cold hearted mother from ever expressing my inner-hippie.
So I did the unthinkable: I walked to the kitchen in a sleepy, bored daze, and grabbed a pair of scissors.
I angled the scissors, and with a quick snip, my hair was on the floor...
I looked.
In the mirror.
And oh, woe is me, words could not recreate the sound that came out of my mouth. 
Thin, greasy strips of hair plastered to my forehead, about three inches above my eyebrows, reminiscent of Emma Watsons pixie cut.
I was frozen, scared, horrified at the monster looking back at me in the mirror.
What do I do?
Somebody tell me, alleviate my fears and let me know that it will be okay, in a few weeks the hair will grow and I really will have a perfect 70s shag fringe, better than Stevie Nicks and just what fifteen year old me always wanted. 
Somebody, help!