Today my sister cut out a chunk of my hair.

It was an accident but it didn't hurt any less.

My hair is a staple for me. It's what I'm known for.
I've gone through so many phases of my life but it's the ONE thing that stayed consistent. It felt like a root in my life during all the madness I go through.

My hair was waist length.

I could only hold the braid in my hand and stare at it. I didn't even realized I was crying while I told her "it's okay. Accidents happen." And I'm still trying to calm myself as I reason that "if I can't fix it in a day, then why worry?" But problems like this, always stick.

My fingers touched the ragged ends left from her damage and I could feel the coldness of the room on my scalp. I still do.

It hurts so much.

Why does everything I love end up ruined? Why can I never just be at peace?

Do I have to earn happiness?
I've been crying in bed for who knows how long.

I cant look her in the face.