They said, “It’s just hair,”
but it was more —
a curtain I hid behind,
a soft shield for the days
I couldn’t meet my own eyes.
The mirror now shows
someone I don’t know yet.
Shorter, lighter —
but not quite free.
I trace the ghost
of what once framed my face,
each lock a memory
of comfort,
of who I thought I had to be.
I cried.
Of course I cried.
Even Yoongi would understand —
change is quiet,
and sometimes it hurts.
But I remember:
“Love myself, love myself.”
Not just when it’s easy,
but when it’s hardest.
So I breathe.
I try.
I tuck a rogue strand behind my ear
like it’s a whisper from Jin:
“You’re still beautiful, just differently now.”
This cut, this shift —
maybe it’s the start
of seeing myself
the way I was always meant to.
June, 2025
