I shaved my head today. I needed to take control of something in my life. And really, I don't care. I don't care about how young I still am. How pretty I am. About how I can still find someone great. "It's not too late". It is too late. I've been married. I don't want to do it again. I'm not done grieving. I'm sick of everyone. Sick of them telling me it's time. Time to heal. Time to move on. I get to decide that. I can just imagine it. "Your hair! Your beautiful hair!! Why? What will you do now?" They will see. See that I don't care. Maybe then they'll leave me alone. Let me be. Forget about me. I'll become that girl that they knew. Who once had so much. "And look at her now", they'll say. They'll put the memory of me in that shadowed corner of their mind. The one growing cobwebs with creaking doors due to disuse. The one they only go to when they need to feel. Feel that the world is tragic. And they should be grateful that they are so blessed in this place full of heartache. That's what I will become to them. That's what he's already become to them. Not to me. Never to me. He is still alive. And I will not let him die. Never.