Rebellious Stage 1 || Self-Expression

I’ll cut my hair
To make you stare
I’ll hide my chest
And I’ll figure out a way to get us out of here

Another test, another bad grade
Another failed mark
Another black eye hidden behind her hair

To the outside world, Moema Yoshida was a prissy little princess with a perfect life. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and was too uppity to talk to “commoners” anymore. She was the daughter of a well-off family and thought she was better than everyone else. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t true.

Moema Yoshida was afraid. 

She had been afraid all her life. She had to be the best, even if she knew she didn’t really need to be. She didn’t talk to others around her because she didn’t want to chase them away. She didn’t want them to be scared by the shadow she was living in. She was afraid of the monster she had to call a father, his gaze stern and steely, unable to soften or be loving. He didn’t love, he just expected the world from her. Yet she still wanted him to be proud of her. She was afraid of what he would have to say about her. About anything she did.

But not today…

Moema looked at herself in the mirror that day, and barely recognized the shaking, weak Whimsicott staring back. Her eyes seemed dim, lifeless. It was disgusting. She despised the person she has become.

She held the scissors tight. She ran a finger lightly over the blade before looking back up at her own reflection, hair down. She ran a few fingers through her hair. It was light to the touch, but...so heavy on her head. Heavy with expectations. Heavy with needs. Heavy with memories.

To cut one's hair is to symbolize change...To cut loose ones shackles...To let go of one's past...

Her father would be mad. He’d yell. He might hit.

But that doesn’t matter anymore…
She held the scissors up to her hair, holding her soft curls taut. Get rid of it. Show that you are a changed woman.

Snip

Moema cut...and cut...and cut...She tried not to cry, but tears made their way down her face anyway. It was hard, letting go...but she knew too damn well how much she needed this. Maybe a simple, quite poorly-done haircut wasn’t the same as letting go, but it was the first step to her. The first step down a road of no longer being a prissy, obedient little princess that listened to and obeyed whatever Yuuta said.

Moema looked up, fluffing out her hair a bit to see the results. She stared at her reflection, stared hard.

And for the first time in her life...she actually saw herself staring back...