Angles have their place, sure—geometry textbooks, architectural symposiums, tilted credit cards chopping piles of blow into neat lines—but unless you operate an art gallery, model for Vidal Sassoon, front a gender-confused synth-pop band, or are Justin Bieber in 2009, your haircut should not be asymmetrical. It should not appear as though blame for your ‘do should be split between a stylist, a freak tropical storm, and the influence of Karen O.
Does the person who butchered your mane suffer from some sort of condition where three inches of hair on one side of a face is somehow (albeit erroneously) equal to five inches on the other side? Do you experience similar deficits in terms of depth perception? These questions are really important, because I’m looking at you and the entirety of your skull is shaved except for, like, a flap of hair above your left eye that covers that eye and that side of your face and part of your lip, on some Davey Havok bullshit.
And you, meanwhile, you’re confidently rocking bangs that are irresponsibly long in the front but then taper recklessly off to nothing in the back; you look like you should be starring in an anime series or something. What I’m having trouble understanding is why you have haircuts like these. Haircuts like these communicate certain things: please pay attention to me, I have several hundred dollars to spend on a haircut, style, and color, I’m somebody, I’m rather serious about vegan hardcore/being a cougar/coordinating teenage trim, it’s important that I convey the impression that I stumbled out of bed ten minutes ago looking just like this, or I randomly went at my hair with a pair of scissors in a fit of post-bulimic pique but it all worked out fabulously.
But you know what? You’re trying too hard. Legitimately successful and famous people are entitled to these sorts of looks, because they’re expected to appear sloppily chic or strenuously styled; you, meanwhile, are attempting to fake your way to unforgettable immortality before you actually make it, and looking asinine doing so. Sure, lots of people have turned your way, and they’re pointing and gasping, but it’s not because you’re bangin’; it’s because you’ve allowed your hair to be mutilated into the cosmetological answer to a Frank Gehry edifice contemplated through a kaleidoscope while gone on crystal meth.