𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝒹𝓎 -creepypasta research

ɱყ ɧąıཞ

    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ᓚᘏᗢ- This is quite silly, but with all this reading about the Lady i kind of noticed the importance of her hair and i kind of understand Her. so here is me venting about my own.

It's funny how something as simple as hair can become such a defining part of who you are, isn't it? For me, my hair has always been my sanctuary, my shield against the world. It's not just strands of keratin growing from my scalp; it's a part of my soul, a manifestation of my essence that I wear every day.

I remember being fascinated with it even when I was little, the way it could change the way I felt about myself with just a new cut. But it's more than that. It's the way it feels when it cascades down my back, each strand a whisper of strength and a testament to the battles I've fought, both within and without.

People often comment on it, saying how striking it is, how it seems to move with a life of its own. They don't know how right they are. It's my love, not in a vain way, but in the sense that it's one of the few things in this world that truly feels like mine, something that hasn't been tarnished or taken from me.

There are days when I feel invisible, days when the weight of my past and the shadows that cling to me threaten to drag me down into the abyss. On those days, my hair is my armor. It's a physical manifestation of my will to persevere, a dark cascade of defiance against a world that has so often tried to break me.

I take care of it, not just with the usual routines of shampoos and conditioners, but with a reverence that might seem strange to others. Each time I brush it, it's like I'm reconnecting with a part of myself, reaffirming my identity. It's a ritual, a moment of peace in the chaos that so often surrounds me. I enjoy talking to it, whispering to it. 

I even remember the spell i would chant while brushing my hair every night, "my hair shall grow like nasty weeds, my energy it's seeds, it will grow longer and faster, to my tailbone it shall be, this is my will so mote it be."

And i remember the time where this girl set it on fire, i had tried to suffocate it with my bare hands, but i was too late, my hair had turned ashy black... they had to cut it all. Since then i had sworn to protect it. Even when i started cutting it short, simply as a way to protest, it would grow back fast, so fast that people would comment on it, saying i "fed it with fertilizer".

So, yes, I love my hair. it's a part of who I am. I am still here, still standing, and I will not be erased.

    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───