opia; matty healy.

35%

Christmas Day comes quick and fast, sneaking up on me faster than I can blink. Sunday morning is a blur. That Friday night I made an unplanned decision to change something. I called Erica and four hours later I was walking into a coffee shop with hair slightly lighter than it was before.

It was liberating to be able to change something for the better, since things had been turning out so completely shit lately. I felt as if I had no control. No control over whether Matty spoke to me or not, and no control over whether my parents and I got along on most days.

It was nearing the new year, another milestone to mark down in the history books and a victory that the world hadn't fallen apart yet – no matter how much it felt like it. Changing my hair was significant in bringing the new year, as if it would create more positive karma as opposed to what I had been receiving the last seventeen years of my life.

Already, after only 24 hours, I was growing used to looking in the mirror and seeing my blonde ends. Blonde had always been a colour I was afraid of, unsure whether it would look good on me or not. My hair was brown, brown like my mothers and brown like my fathers; blonde wasn't me, and I don't want to be me anymore.

I don't want to be this small, boring girl from Los Angeles, whose life is not as boring as she is herself. I want to be the girl from Los Angeles who takes chances and doesn't feel set back at the smallest incidents. I want to be the girl that doesn't flinch when Matty turns her down. The girl who knows someone out there is better for her but doesn't look for it when she doesn't yet know herself. I want to be the girl who let's things happen, and moves on.

Back in Los Angeles I'd bought a dress that I knew I would never wear. I considered leaving it there with my grandparents before we moved out here, because there would be almost no occasion for me to wear it on. It wasn't extravagant, but a simple red dress that was too out of my league.

It's no surprise that it catches my eye in my wardrobe once again as I sort through everything I own to find something to wear. I almost call George and tell him I won't be coming because I've got nothing to wear, but the red dress is there, peeking out from the top of a small box.

I want to say it looks awful, that it only looked good on the rack and I have no business wearing something like this to a Christmas dinner – but it's perfect. It's velvet material shines under the artificial lighting and its low neck, although slightly uncomfortable, stops at a seamless length.

"Where did you buy that?" My mum peeks into my room, startling me from my gaze into the mirror, searching for any flaws.

I shrug, turning to look at her, "A while ago."

"It's nice," she smiles, "we're leaving in fifteen."

I nod, watching her walk away before I shift through my jewellery to pull out some silver rings and two hoop earrings. Shuffling through the box I come across Mum's necklace, one she'd gifted me on my thirteenth birthday as her mother did to her at the same age. It hangs low, with a silver bar running horizontally across at the bottom. I slip it on, letting it fall down and admiring it in the mirror.

I take a deep breath as Dad knocks on George's door half an hour later. Cars line the street and I'm not surprised to see the crowd inside has already grown almost to its full capacity. George's Father, Mark, answers the door with a smile, greeting my parents and I like old friends.

"They're in the living room," He tells me, watching my gaze shift around the house.

I thank him politely, following the loudest noise in the house until I reach the living room where nearly every friend I've made this year is stood. My eyes find Matty first, taking in his appearance: a black turtleneck tucked into a pair of dress pants.