thoughts

88

why did i cut my hair?
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maybe it was because i wanted to let go of the old me. let go of the pretty, long blonde hair and glowing skin... old me. as much as i did love her, i hate her now. or do i? why did i cut my hair? was it to present more masculine? was it to show myself that i wasn't afraid of change? i cant help but feel regret over my own poor decision. i love my hair. it represents me. messy and clumsy. my non-styled bed head of hair. why am i so back and forth about it? if i love my hair why do i cry about not being as beautiful anymore? why do i let these thoughts of my past haunt me? why do i let society control my hair? long haired me was scared. she was afraid of change and she was... she was scared. she was afraid of the monsters that lurked under her skin. she was scared of the mirror. she was scared of the eyes that followed her everyday. she was scared of the scissors. because... her hair seemed to be the only thing that stayed the same with her. she was always known to be the girl with the long blonde hair, hadn't been cut in 4 years. beautiful long hair. that's all she was. hiding behind those long, stringy and straight pieces of hair. her distressed face hid behind those long, stringy and straight pieces of hair. her personality hid behind those long, stringy and straight pieces of hair. everything hid behind those long, stringy and straight pieces of hair. her smile that show her crooked but beautiful teeth. , her bright eyes that speak more emotion then she ever will, the three identical freckles that lay underneath each of her eyes and all of her hearts desire. a young, scared and stupid girl, hiding behind her hair. i cut my hair to show strength. to show that i am not that person anymore. i am not the same terrified little girl, nervous about what her class mates would think of her if she changed even the simplest of things. i am not afraid of the mirror anymore. i am not afraid of myself anymore. my hair is what i am, but in a different way now. it shows that i can be messy. i can be imperfect and i can be clumsy and frivolous and annoying and all tangled up into a bunch that you can't seem to brush out. i am no longer shoved into a straight line, cramped into a space far too tight to hold my true self. that's why i cut my hair.