It's the habit of doing something; or in other words, being used to doing something.

It's been almost two months since my teenage life's tragedy, and still I have yet to get myself accustomed to living with a missing limb. I sought out ways to rid me of this empty sensation: shopping until my wallet was in ashes, partying until the sun come up. Gone were the basic and classy pieces in my wardrobe, in their place are bold and eccentric pieces that my old self wouldn't even imagine wearing. Gone are my long, curly locks as well; atop my head is a pixie-like hairstyle: cropped all the way. I also tried running until my already-injured ankles caved in. Despite all my efforts, I still would find myself crying myself to sleep.

It's a pain to get accustomed to this emptiness. It's irreplaceable. It's improbable to fix. All that I can do right now is leave it and let it be. I can cry all day and night, starve for a lifetime, run until I can no longer run, it still won't change a thing. It is gone now, and the chances of it growing back is, well... I don't really know anymore. I still believe in it, though. I always pray that somehow, despite all the blood, sweat and tears shed, it will all fall back into its happy place.

So cheers to my new hair and an all-new life. A week from now, I will be up in the air, in a journey to a new chapter in my life. It's going to be another fate I will have to get used to. It's going to hard, but it should be fun.