Are you perhaps familiar with twintails?
Until just short while ago, I would ask questions like that and in return I would always receive the same sort of answer.
A hairstyle tied into two tails.
With an apparent name such as that, it's only natural that most people can't help but assosciate it in that way. For people who lived perfectly normal lives, that was the extent of the awareness that twintails had claimed over them.
But one day, that all changed and the hairstyle became common knowledge to the people all around the world.
Monsters had come to steal away that "something" that people liked and twintails were their top priority. But their arrival came with that of another, the girl who would go to war with them to protect those twintails had appeared as well.
People thought it was some sort of practical joke at first. They say that a woman's hair is her life... but she was staking her very own life over a hairstyle.
For me, twintails are a symbol of immaturity.
No matter how much one wants to be an adult or how much of an adult they are, that's the impression they will have.
Taking the top place in terms of academic results. Behaving properly to the point of being exemplary. Representing thousands of students as their student council president.
None of that has made anybody think of me as an adult.
Even though I am already of marriagable at this present time, I am still seen as a child by those around me.
I can't blame them though.
Ask a hundred people and a hundred people would tell you I am in elementary school. That is just how childlike I appear to be.
Heavily handicapped by what is on the outside, what is inside of me lies buried deep, unable to reach the surface no matter how far it tries to climb out.
That is why twintails had become a necessity to me.
There may very well be nothing that can be done about it at this point but I do not want to accept this reality called growth.
Undo my ribbons and all too easily do these symbols of childishness go away. Leaving them behind was my very last mode of resistance.
And for as long as I can remember, my mother has instructed me to always wear my hair in this style wherever and whenever I go regardless of how fitting it may be for the occasion. That gave me the excuse I needed.
When people look at me with adoring eyes like some sort of pet, I would think thus:
It was because of the twintails. If only it weren't for the twintails.
That's what I told myself. I didn't even have any courage to throw away. I just pushed all that immaturity onto my twintails so I could protect my heart.
But when that day came, I saw and I came to a realization.
Holding onto that deception over my disposition was what it was that kept me immature.
The little girl looked right up at the giant beasts that had come to invade our world. Her twintails waved about in the wind as if she meant bear them as our world's flag and banner. The little girl stood her ground and gallantly faced off with them.
Seeing Tail Red brought that on to me.
You see, I loved heroes. I especially loved the ones from childrens' shows.
Without waiting for others to understand them, they continued to fight on their own. Anyone would think highly of those fictional heroes. For the me who was unable to be open with anyone and continued to struggle on that way, they were what supported my heart most of all.
And right out of fiction, that girl who dashingly took the stage in the real world was exactly one of those heroes that I admired so.
The girl paid no heed to the world's doubtful eyes and abase words and continued to fight on. To me, that made her shine dazzlingly bright like the Sun.
And before I knew it, I had become captive to Tail Red.
As long as I loved twintails, she would come running to save me.
That noble oath was made between us and I have broken it. She has come to save me so many times now but I haven't a single shred of love to give for twintails.
The young girl who fought to protect twintails with her life on the line.
The hero I admired.
Would she still come to save me if she knew of the truth hidden in my heart? Would she show me that same smile even if I confessed to her what I held within?
I want to show it to her.
I want to bare my everything to her.
I want to show her the girl with the filthy heart that longed for her helping hand as she hides her contempt for those beloved twintails.
I want her to know so bad. I want her to see right through me. I want her to force it right out of me.
I don't even have the courage to be open with myself but before I knew it, I had become captivated with this sort of fantasy.
I beg you. Look at me.
Look at my true twintails...