Chop.
Cut.
Thin out.

Chop chop
Cut cut
Thin it the fuck out!

Chop. Cut. Thin out. Repeat. This hard been my routine for the past thirty minutes. Shortly after my mental breakdown, I had decided to cut it all off, to cut all my hair off. I want it all off. For reason. This hair held me back. It aided my "holding onto" attitude and I needed to let go. So I started to cut the mane.

I stared down at the sink as the water washed away the remainders of my hair down the drain.

My hair, which was once blonde , long and smooth, was now collar bone length and purple with a hint of blue in it. I had died my hair three months before leaving France. A fresh start in my "perfect world", would mean a new me. Needless to say I don't regret it. My hair looks a little choppy and awkward so I wash my hair real quick as well as my body.

I come out nice and fresh and my hair looks, well, dark purple and short. I don't look prettier nor do I feel prettier but this is a new step.This "new look" might just be a good step in the right direction....

Or am I just avoiding the reality of my life and the struggles I have to push through?