Summer is here and I have no fucks for the world.

My summers started a lot sooner than everybody else's and I'm already bored one week in. My hair hit the ugly length of hopelessness just between my shoulders and my boobs, and that's perfect timing for me to get iffy about changing up my style in the glorious summer.

I chopped it off last night. I say chopped because I forgot my own method of cutting my hair and managed to give myself a long bob instead of my usual blunt shoulder length cut. The sad thing is once I realised I fucked up, I wasn't even bothered "oh well it's the summer" I thought to myself and just kept cutting, trying to level the shittyness. You see once you finish uni for the year and you have no summer job lined up, you care a lot lot less than before than when you actually had a routine, a reason to straighten your hair and put some make-up on. Obviously I'm loving the freedom of not having anything to do, but I can't avoid the void within me of wanting to explore London before I move to Brighton for uni in September; but I have no job which means no money which means catching up with Orange is the New Black at home in my pj's instead. Even though I still have my dad nagging at me everyday to make his stupid website about his old families kebab house business that no one even remembers; and I still wont do it because I know I have 'the whole summer' to do it, when I could probably finish it in two days if I wanted to, but I don't. I have no drive or ambition left in me; my final project pretty much sucked all that outta me last month. Fuck, sometimes I wonder whether fashion is even right for me. I love it but hate it all the same; I've always wanted to go into textiles, but lately I've been challenging my own future, thinking whether its the media side of fashion would be better for me, being more involved with a fashion magazine of my own. I don't know, with all this spare time all I can do is just doubt myself; fantastic.

Summer is here and I have no fucks for the world. They say girls cut their hair to forget about a boyfriend or to move on from something, new hair new person. Is that true though? Does that apply to me? Maybe me cutting my hair is reflecting on my decisions of what I want to do for the future, textiles or fashion magazine; maybe I've moved on already? Who's fucking idea was it anyway to make us decide on our future at 18/19 years old. But there's no turning back now, I'm moving to Brighton in September to start my degree on Textiles with Business, better fucking grow my hair out and suck it up! No going back now!