Lying prostrate on the couch yesterday afternoon, I didn't feel like doing much of anything, trying not to move as little as possible as the sticky summer heat rolled in through the windows.

I could have switched on the air con, but ever since the new system was installed, I keep forgetting how to program the damn thing and it just seemed easier to lay there and not move.

Who knows? Maybe it was the depression talking...though, truth be told, I don't really feel depressed.

So what if someone doesn't love you? What the hell can you really do about it? Best to move on.

It was weird, but when I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, I suddenly hated the way my long, thick hair was messily tied up in a pony tail.

That's how I've been wearing it since the beginning of this year.

Every day, it's the same pony tail or bun.

A guy friend of mine (and a male boss) has repeatedly told me that guys don't like girls with short hair. And what's more is that they prefer your long hair tumbling freely down your back, not scraped back in a neat pony tail, away from your face.

Frowning at my reflection, I decided I needed to cut off my hair now. Right now. It had to be now.

I remembered how I actually really liked how Katie Holmes' new hairstyle looked, so I printed off a picture and drove to my hair dresser's.



As I watched my long locks being chopped off, I felt surprisingly unsentimental about it. It actually felt like this huge weight being lifted off of my shoulders. And as I saw the new haircut start to take shape, I actually liked what I saw.

Late last night, as I started to read the new Harry Potter, I had a moment where I paused and realized that yet a new chapter had started in my life.

No.

Not because of the hair cut.

It was more like, "Wow. I've moved onto a new job -- one that I actually don't mind. I have new co-workers. Things have ended before they started with 'The Guy'. And now a new look for the new chapter."

It was a nicer way of looking at things, I thought.

I also realized that I wasn't really the same person that I was a few years ago, you know? Maybe pain is about the only thing that helps to mould us into who we're meant to be. (Though, I did question in my other journal yesterday whether we say things like that just to make the pain a little bit easier to bear.)

And so...I'm moving forward and realize that things are going to be a-okay.