myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

myO Still <3's You

Vitals

Birthday
• 1993-05-02
Gender
• Female
Location
• Here
Member Since
• 2005-05-30
Occupation
• Life preserver :)
Real Name
• Belina

Personal

Achievements
• http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb281/Soul_Resistance/Untitled.jpg... Nuff said
Anime Fan Since
• Ever since Pokemon
Favorite Anime
• I'm not that obsessed anymore, to be honest. Mostly just Kare Kano, Ceres, Furuba, Ouran Highschool Hostclub, FMA, and, of course, ShinChan. X3
Goals
• Make it out of here in one piece
Hobbies
• Paranoia, mood swings, and the occasional emotional meltdown
Talents
• :)

myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

Monday, February 22, 2010

I felt a little bit like I had in my dream when I watched myself shatter into a million pieces—detached, as if all this was happening to some friendly but distant acquintance. The girl I had been for the past nine months, the strong, happy, peaceful, loving sprite I had let Jon transform me into, was the broken, glass doll on the floor. I could not be her anymore without getting trampled on. Maybe she was dead, maybe she was simply comatose, but either way, for the moment she was gone.
Clearly, however, I could not let this go unattended. A vital part of me had died. I needed to replace that part as soon as possible. I needed to be reborn. With this thought in mind, I went inside to leave my mom a note, then headed out, armed with nothing but a rosary, a cell phone, and what little money I had in my purse. Not daring to think of anything else but the road in front of me, I hiked down to the nearest convenience store, purchased the brightest, boldest, most rebellious color of hair dye I could find, then walked back to my house.
At some point, when Jon and I had still been together, I had told him I would die if we ever broke up. Since we had broken up and I was not willing to die, I figured I might as well dye instead.
Not even my mother, who opposed my hair-dying habits almost as strongly as Liz, dared to stop me. She did not understand my logic, but she knew I was hurting, and she figured hair-dye was better than crying. Hell, not only did she not stop me, she helped me do it.
That evening, in the bathroom, as my mother squeezed the toxic-smelling, neon liquid onto tendrils of my hair enveloped in crumpled bits of plastic wrap and talked to me about life and love and music, I was strangely reminded of birth. It was just me and my mother and the rain beating against the windows, and she was designing me, molding me, coaxing me out into the world, as the doctor probably had when I was first born.
While I waited the prescribed half hour it took for my hair to absorb the color, I thought about Liz, my mother, Jon, my new hair, and potentially my new self.
Liz liked my hair but didn’t like how I colored it. My mother liked my hair and my imaginative ways of coloring and styling it, but thought I was sometimes too bold. Jon always loved the yellowish blond color I dyed it, but constantly whined that I should grow it out and stop straightening it.
Nothing I did with it was ever good enough for anybody. In most situations, the same applied to me. Liz always complained that I should be more image-conscious. Jon had constantly nagged me to be more free-spirited. My mother periodically told me to stop being so damn negative. Everybody was always on my back and in my hair.
As I stripped out of my bathrobe, slid the plastic wrap out of my hair, stepped in the shower, and turned the water on, I imagined them all being washed away out of my hair with the dye.

Comments (0)

« Home

Anime | How to Draw Anime | Anime Wallpapers

Top of Page