"YOU SHUT UP, IDIOT! AND YES, I'M A PSYCHO, SO WHAT? I'M A MAID, A SLUT, A BITCH, A BURDEN, A PSYCHO! JUST LET ME DIE!"
.
.
"Princess! Please, talk to me. Suicide isn't the only option. Your life is precious, and you're not alone in this. Lean on me...
"Hyung, that's exactly what I felt. I don't want the past to repeat," he sighed and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Namjoon reassured him, "Don't worry, Yoongi. Even though we couldn't save him but this time we will save Y/N no matter what," patting Yoongi's back to provide comfort and assurance.
I tossed my bag on the floor and flopped onto my bed. Exhausted, I replayed the lunch with Yoongi oppa in my mind. He's kind of cute, I thought. Laying there for half an hour, I eventually mustered the energy to get up and head to the bathroom.
The cold water of the shower enveloped me, and I became lost in its embrace. For twenty minutes, I simply stood there, feeling the water cascade over every inch of my body.
It brought an odd sense of comfort. Closing the shower tap, I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out into the room.
I stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my body. I despised it. I never fit the mold of a perfect girl. My long hair seemed stupid. No ample curves, no voluptuous chest, no defined rear.
Instead, I had a thin body with scars on my arms and legs. When I gazed at my face, disgust crept in. Thin lips, a large forehead, and sparse eyebrows. Every aspect of me seemed ugly.
I sighed and grabbed the scissor from dressing table. The sound of the scissors cutting through my hair echoed in the room. With each snip, I felt a sense of liberation, as if shedding the weight of societal expectations.
Following a tutorial I had seen months ago on TikTok, I embraced the courage to give myself a short wolf cut.
As the strands fell to the ground, my hair transformed from its once lengthy state to a shorter, neck-length version. Examining the altered reflection in the mirror, I felt a strange mix of emotions.
The cut:
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It was a new version of me, yet the haunting feeling of ugliness lingered, refusing to be easily dismissed. The physical change couldn't erase the deeper struggles with self-perception that continued to plague my thoughts.
What I wore:
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