Three months of beautiful, blissful unemployment are closing in. Days have become longer, and so have the thought process. It draws closer and closer each second, is it time I finally got another one? And though the carefree, the almost TV-commercial-esque happy-riding-in-the-car-with-my-hair-flying-away side says, no, the slowly-turning penniless wonder who likes to think of herself as ruthlessly independent knows the bitter truth.
Life is so beautiful in snapshots that you chance upon, of friends' or random photographs. Click, click, click. Friends laughing, drinking, making faces at the camera in eateries, posing on beaches, monuments, in front of beautiful floor-length mirrors in their beautiful rooms, in quirky apartments, in a fun office with equally funny and carefree colleagues. Are these bouts of happiness? Is it happiness at all? Or is there someone in those photographs feeling lonely amid her ten friends?
I've diverted again. State of mind. Branching out, or is it confusion?
Life is so beautiful in snapshots that you chance upon, of friends' or random photographs. Click, click, click. Friends laughing, drinking, making faces at the camera in eateries, posing on beaches, monuments, in front of beautiful floor-length mirrors in their beautiful rooms, in quirky apartments, in a fun office with equally funny and carefree colleagues. Are these bouts of happiness? Is it happiness at all? Or is there someone in those photographs feeling lonely amid her ten friends?
I've diverted again. State of mind. Branching out, or is it confusion?
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