Lost in my own home

Being home for two days, I've realised... that I've gotten very used to my life in Adelaide.

Things are so different here. People are less friendly, the drivers drive like maniacs, the air is suffocating. And the stench of smoke reeks every where. Not to mention, people here tend to stare a lot, giving me the chills.

My biological clock has not adjusted itself well yet, waking me up 7-8am every morning and turning itself off at 11pm. It feels weird being here, as if I've squished myself into everyone's life. Feels as if I shouldn't be here. It doesn't matter if my parents want to see me or Tiara being glad that she has an owner, this isn't my life anymore.

I miss waking up every morning, running into Ray's room and pouncing on him to wake him up. Then snuggling with him or massaging his feet for a while before leaving to start the day.

I miss twirling and skipping around the kitchen while Ray prepares a meal, rushing off to the computer every few minutes to check if anyone has replied a chat or my email, then skipping back to the kitchen to talk to him.

I miss the times where I would accompany Ray on the front porch while he waters the garden. Looking at the sunset and praying that the weather is going to get cooler during the night.

Best of all would be the times where Ray would try waking me up to either go to church or dinner with his relatives. The process involves pulling off every single item on my bed, using the water gun and when all else fails, pulling me off the bed myself. Of course I'll eventually end up sleeping on the floor where the pile of quilt was thrown.

And also my kittens. Sure Tiara's wonderful and I'm drowning in the adoration that I've been receiving, but she's just not Mickey somehow. I don't get to listen to the purr that I love so much or the weird "Mmh?" noise that he makes. Or see the goofy face looking back at me. Silly Mickey dearest.

... I guess, I just I miss my home.