The below pictures are SO not me but I am learning to find my good angle and to smile without looking conscious... I really don't know how girls work this camwhore thing.
Feels... awkward and narcissistic! =p
Somehow I like this shot of me... feels more... like me.
"By His wounds you are healed."
1 Peter 2:24
So why am I in a pity party right now? Life is great. I don't have to work and I have all the time in the world. I don't get panic attacks (PA) like how I used to get them at work and there isn't much stress other than wedding planning and the inner lining of my purse. At the same time, this saying is just apt and so true - an idle mind is the devil's workshop.
The sun is shining brightly today and I woke up in an okay mood. I know for sure I didn't wake up on the wrong side of the bed, that's for sure! Heated up breakfast for Mr. C and I - two roti canai with awesome Nyonya Chicken from last night and saw him off to work.
Felt like watching Privileged and did just that with four episodes to boot! To top it off, I indulged on a facial mask, pampering my face that so needs work on it's pores. The mask left a 'granny' smell though, reminding me of my great grandmother that used to live with my family and I when I was in primary school.
And seeing how I planned to bake 'Melting Moments' today after dodgily snapping a picture of the recipe off a book at Harvey Norman last week much to Mr. C's embarrassment, my time is occupied, so, why do I feel bereft?
Why do I once again ponder this age old topic? Why do I feel that if one calls themselves friends, true friends or what not, they'd at least do something? Call perhaps or text or email or something.. anything?! Am I expecting too much?
I guess often times, people only come to me when they need someone, when they're down, when there isn't anyone else or due to much prodding from my end. Either that or they have much better things in life than to be bothered with insignificant me. Told you this is a pity party so don't judge.
It's funny now that I am here, in Melbourne, with no exact curfew, no parent harping over what time I get back but neither do I have the absolute freedom and luxury to go out and about whenever I want to and with whomever. One thing is that there's Mr. C and the other is the lack of friends.
Yeah sure, I do have some (in Aussie and Malaysia) but I am not part of their life. I am just an addition. They have their gangs, their clicks, their life and I don't blame them. Truly but it'll be nice to at least have my own gang, my own click and feel like this is my life, my home.
It'll be nice to know that I have my own gang. My own gang that gives a crap about me and knows when I am having my down times (like now) and tries to cheer me up. Unfortunately, they're all busy living their lives and who can fault them?
It's this icky thing we call, life.