“!(imgcenter)http://farm1.static.flickr.com/157/331021342_140e1ed357_m.jpg!(Blown, dry)”:http://www.flickr.com/photos/yannie/331021342/
So the clock has ticked tocked its way to December 24 and it’s officially Christmas eve.
I have gotten myself a new haircut, a long overdue one, I must say, and have ended up looking more juvenile than ever. Gill, my stylist, kept grinning and calling me his princess but I think he is just heaping praises on his own “masterpiece”. Oh well, at least the big, blown-dried look was something temporary which I had grown to enjoy too little, too late.
Too little, too late. How true of life.
Oddly enough, something akin to fear and anxiety gripped me the entire day. The whole “do I want to live my life this way” question surfaced in my brain and it hasn’t left since then. I am (only) 25, is this what I really want out of my life? I want to feel alive, hopeful, loved, desired, idealistic, excitement, joy, anticipation. I don’t want to look back and regret not ever doing this or that.
I couldn’t shake it off, it hounded me like a pack of hungry wolves after a juicy prey, stalking me like my shadow. Maybe I just like the chase and only the chase, because I am greedy and want to have it all.
And it’s still echoing in my mind now.
Yannisms 