𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ||

ɴɪɴᴇ

As I groggily awakened and glanced at my reflection in the mirror, an intense itching sensation plagued my scalp, prompting me to scratch vigorously like a dog trying to relieve itself of fleas. The discomfort was unbearable, and I knew I had to take action.

Rushing to the bathroom, I frantically grabbed a pair of scissors and began cutting the bands that held my tightly braided hair together. With each snip, a sense of liberation mixed with a growing dread overcame me. Finally, I severed the last band, and as I beheld my transformed appearance, a shriek escaped my lips, echoing through the house.

Startled by my outcry, my mother burst into the bathroom, wielding a spatula like a warrior preparing for battle. She peered at me with wide eyes, pointing the spatula menacingly in my face. "Who are you?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with both concern and fear. In a panic, I quickly responded, "Mom, it's me, [Name]!" Relief washed over her features as she realized it was her child standing before her.

"I thought you were some kind of monster," she sighed, lowering the spatula. "Go take a shower immediately, you stink, and let your hair breathe. No more braids for now." With that, she closed the bathroom door behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the bewildering reflection staring back at me.

Turning my gaze once again to the mirror, I examined the disheveled state of my hair, now free from its confining braids. Strands stuck out in every direction, resembling a wild mane that had been neglected for far too long. In an attempt to assess the full extent of my transformation, I sniffed my armpits and recoiled in horror at the unpleasant odor that wafted to my nose. The realization hit me like a slap to the face—I desperately needed that shower.

Stepping into the comforting warmth of the cascading water, I allowed it to wash away not only the grime from my body but also the remnants of my former self. With each droplet that cascaded down my skin, I felt a renewed sense of freshness and a growing acceptance of my altered appearance. It was a moment of metamorphosis, a shedding of the old and an embrace of the new.

Emerging from the shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel, my hair now damp and clinging loosely to my scalp. I stared at my reflection once more, seeing the potential for reinvention and growth. The absence of braids revealed a vulnerability, a sense of rawness that I had not experienced before. It was as if I had uncovered a hidden layer of my identity—one that begged to be explored and nurtured.