Anecdotes of my passing...

There is Hermes. Lana Marks. Vuitton. You would think these are poncey names that are the hallmarks of sophistication. Apparently. And then there’s the most important bag of all, the eye-bag. This is perhaps the one bag that no woman (would ever) wants and a bag that even a man would know about.

My bags are getting bigger and my panda-rings are more defined these days. Perhaps I am getting older. I usually have no problems with it, but it’s just that people are now supplementing ‘Hello’ with ‘you look terrible (or other similar adjectives)’. I suppose it doesn’t help that my pale skin only serve to highlight such natural gothic cosmetic on my face. This is in addition to the fact that my salt and pepper hair is becoming salt than pepper.

Oh the vagaries of life.

Confession. Confession. I think I need to start opening up more. There’s only so much I can hide and keep in. I don’t need this stress. Too many actors, too few scenes and limited time.

I’m sorry. I’ll keep my promise.