Tag Archives: life

Listen

I won’t rant passive aggressively this time. I mean, not at first, anyway. What I really feel lie doing right now is sharing the music I’ve been listening to these past few weeks. Because music is the only thing that has been going good for me right now. Now before I start listing songs I should tell you that I am obsessed with every Hamilton song. Hamilton is the best and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. Still, there are a few favorites other than the musical based on the founding fathers of USA. So here they are:

  1. 505- Arctic Monkeys
  2. Kashmir- Led Zeppelin
  3. Perfect Places- Lorde
  4. Pray: Sam Smith
  5. Gemini Feed- Banks
  6. Irresistible- Fall out Boy ft. Demi Lovato
  7. Affection: Cigarettes after Sex
  8. Mr Brightside: The Killers
  9. Star Power: Sonic Youth
  10. Take me to Church: Hozier
  11. Apocalypse: Cigarettes after sex
  12. Hold me tight or don’t: Fall out Boy
  13. Trip Switch: Nothing but thieves
  14. Cold Cold Cold: Cage the Elephant
  15. 5,4,3,2,1 (Murder Song): Aurora
  16. Do I Wanna Know?: Arctic Monkeys
  17. Carry on my wayward son: Kansas
  18. Heat of the Moment: Asia
  19. Dream a little dream of me: Ella Fitzgerald
  20. Arabella: Arctic Monkeys
  21. New Rules: Dua Lipa
  22. Babe I’m gonna leave you: Led Zeppelin
  23. Set Fire to the Third Bar: Snow Patrol
  24. The Ballad of Gus and Sam: Ferraby Lionhart
  25. Can’t be happening: The Marlows
  26. Forrest Whitaker: Bad Books
  27. Back to Black: Amy Winehouse
  28. Too Late to say goodbye: Cage the Elephant
  29. Bad at Love: Halsey
  30. Why’d you only call me when you’re high: Arctic Monkeys
  31. Wonderwall: Oasis
  32. River: Eminem ft. Ed Sheeran
  33. Suck it and see: Arctic Monkeys
  34. Come a little closer: Cage the elephant
  35. If I get high: Nothing but thieves
  36. Monster: Kanye West ft. Jay-Z, Bon Iver and Nikki Minaj
  37. For You: Angus and Julia Stone
  38. Runaway: Aurora
  39. Like Home: Eminem ft. Alicia Keys
  40. Starboy: The Weeknd ft. Daft Punk

Obviously my taste in music is very weird and all over the place. But I really like all these songs, plus Hamilton :P. Oh, and also cheesy 90s Bollywood music. I am who I am, man. But I really really recommend all these songs that I’ve listed above to everyone.

Now for the rant, I actually have nothing new. Same old trivial issues that my head can’t process.  No wait, I do. It’s more of a thing I wish I had. So like three of my friends broke up with their boyfriends in the past  two weeks. I was sad about only one because that dude was legit a nice person. Anyway, not my dysfunctional relationship, not my decision. So now what I’m envious about is that two of them are already schtumping someone else. No judgement man, because again, not my body, not my place. I’m only envious in the sense like wow, how are you just so confident about everything? It takes me sixty four years to be comfortable intimately with someone because I hate my body and the way I look. So I just wish I had that kind of confidence within myself that I don’t have to think twice about what I want to do with my body.

That’s it.

 

 

 

 

 

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Changed 

“I love you.” 

Right now I’m not sure if I do anymore, but I say it anyway because it’s all that I am. I can’t remember what you look like very clearly, or even recall the sound of your voice. I’m not the same person you left and you’re not the same person I love. I love you in a way that you’re my whole world yet I would rather not feel like that ever again. 

But I know I love you because that’s the only reality I’ve known. I know I love you because I can’t love anything else. I know I love you because you’re my whole life, even if you’re not in it. 

I know that I love you. 

I find it comforting to hold on to this fading emotion because I know what it feels like and who isn’t a sucker for familiarity? 


*picture credit I’m not really sure about, it’s just a picture I found in my archives.  All credits go to the original photographer, not me. 

Cut off

I’ve been having a rough time lately.

Issues that I’d thought I’d resolved have come back up to haunt me all over again. My self esteem is at an all time low ever since a girl decided to rip me apart one by one. It’s not about validation. I don’t need some dudes telling me I’m pretty and what not. Flattery is not an answer to anything. But whatever, there’s no solution to that problem.

Then there’s another problem that has been bugging me. My education. What the fuck am I going to do about that, man? I can’t be a lawyer. I’ll be the worst lawyer this world has ever seen and I’m not even exaggerating. I’m someone who cries when someone yells at me, how the fuck do you expect me to face another attorney in a courtroom? Also, every single time I sit down to study Constitutional Law, it makes me want to throw up. There was this chance that I could transfer somewhere from the 5th semester but my stupid university cancelled all exams until further notice. If I want a transfer it’ll have to be in 3rd semester, setting me back by a year again. I can’t keep losing years like this or I’ll be 30 and still doing my graduation.  I don’t even the backup plan that every girl has; to get married. Because let’s be real, I’m not even proper human material, let alone wife material. I have no choice but to make something of myself and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen if I keep wasting years like they’re seconds. If you ask me what I’m good at? Well, nothing really. I can read and watch an absurd amount but that’s about the end of my intellectual prowess. So you see, I’m fucked in all places all at once.  To quote a friend, “I feel like I’ve taken more loads than Sasha Grey.”

I don’t even have the solace of feeling like this is Karma getting back at me. I’ve done my time. Karma has had its due. We’re even. My only saving grace is the hope that the world will end before all this happens. Or I’ll die somehow, if not then I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

I tried traveling but even that didn’t work. All it did was leave me bankrupt for the rest of the month and gave me tan lines so sharp they could kill. It wasn’t all bad, though. I mean, yeah, hanging out by the ocean drinking cold beer is fun. Watching cute boys in the water without shirts is more fun. Smoking pot with some of  and trying to speak Portuguese is priceless. But what’s the point of any of it when you’re hundreds of miles away but you’re still thinking all the same things? 

I don’t go out a lot, either. Because I had an epiphany while I was off getting sunburned. I didn’t take my phone because it’s fucking useless. I took another one to click pictures and support my recent addiction to Boomerang. I didn’t tell anyone I was going because whenever I speak about something I’m going to do, it doesn’t happen.  It was being somewhat off the radar that I realized that not everyone I think is my friend, is actually my friend. Yeah, I know a lot of people but they’re not my friends. I realized they only ever called me when they needed something.  I don’t need anything from anyone other than their company. It sucked to realize that more than half the people only ever called me or remembered me when they needed something, and that they don’t actually care about me. I’m done calling people my friend when they’re actually not. They’re just the people that I know. I don’t have a problem being there for someone when they need me or helping them out with something. But I just expect them to be there for me, too.  That’s it. When I’m there for you at 4 in the morning, the least you can do is not ignore my texts. I’m done letting people walk all over me. I’m nice but I’m not fucking stupid.  It’s not even exaggerated expectation because there are a few people who call me even when they don’t need anything.

Radhika calls me just to tell me a joke or she just comes over wherever I am to simply hang out. Diksha calls me to tell me what all she did that day from waking up to going to pee. To be honest, they’re the only family I have. I don’t think expecting someone to just be there for me is too much. So since they don’t give a fuck then even I’ve decided not to. Like I said, I’m nice but not stupid. 

Don’t even get me started on boys. I’m just done with that altogether. I have enough issues without adding “boy” trouble to that.

Then there’s my dumb body which can’t run itself properly. I take vitamins, I take protein and I eat so much all the time. I still don’t gain weight. My face has become so ashy grey that I think it’s going to crumble if I go out in the wind. I have zero stamina to speak of. Then there are my ovaries who can’t behave themselves. It’s so fucking frustrating not having my period for almost a year now. Back in January I thought something happened but it was like only 2 days. The reports come up normal so I don’t know why is this happening. Am I pregnant? Am I dying? What’s happening down there, God? It was never my plan to have kids but it wasn’t in my plan to grow a mustache, either. Then there’s sleeping. I’ve been having so bizarre dreams that you wouldn’t believe.  So bizarre and so vivid that I’m not sure if it actually happened or not. I was jumping off a rock and into an ocean in one (Which isn’t possible because I can’t fucking swim) and in one I was having dinner with a family that I don’t think remembers me anymore. Then I keep waking up every few hours. So I’m seriously depressed, really anxious, malnourished and sleep deprived all at once.

 It sucks being me right now.

So you see, I’ve had a depressing month and I don’t think it’s getting better anytime soon. 

It’s a rant

I’m suicidal.

Apparently there’s something wrong with that. But let’s be honest, who isn’t?  Who hasn’t at least once thought about ending their lives? Everyone is suicidal at some level or the other, I just happen to be at the pro version.

I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t like having to explain why I’m in a place where the future doesn’t exist for me. I don’t like to talk about coping mechanisms that I’ve adopted. This whole dying thing, I don’t talk about to anyone.

Believe it or not, a pot dealer gave me some great advice. Now that I think about it, he’s a pretty nice guy. So he told me that it’s better to write these feelings down. Not because they’ll help, but because after you die and people find these logs, they’ll feel awful for the rest of their lives. I like the sound of that. Not everyone, obviously. Just the ones who have driven me to the point of dying. Ironically, they’re the ones who are also responsible for me being alive.

Another idiot told me that if I go through with this, I should think about how bad my family will feel. Well, they better feel pretty damn bad. It’ll change them forever? Thank goodness. I don’t want my life to end in vain. I hold no love for my family. It died the day they told me that I had to become a lawyer, even if it took 10 years or even if it killed me. If you think I’m a monster for not loving my own mother then go ahead. I’m the worst creature to ever walk the Earth. If I had a kid who was already dying out of anxiety and stress, I wouldn’t drop the pressure on them to become something that they don’t want. I’ve had tough love my whole life. I’ll admit, it made me tough. But I’m no longer that strong. For once I’d like to be loved as a child should.

The worst part is, they know what I do. They know that I sliced my wrists open. They know I bled for a long, long time. They know that the reason I want to die. They know everything. Yet no one came to me to ask why were there bloodied clothes in the garbage. No one asked me why there were gashes on my wrists. No one asked, so I told no one. So when I die, I do want then to feel bad. Maybe they won’t do the same thing to my brother. Maybe he’ll benefit the most from my death.

I really thought that would be the day I’d end it. It didn’t take courage. All it took was a blade. I had a letter written out. Actually, three. One for my family. One for Diksha and one for Radhika. In them I wrote who gets my stuff.( For the record, no one gets my Louboutins. They go with me.)

It wasn’t God’s plan to make me die. I mean after an hour or so of bleeding you’d think the 5litres would run out. But apparently not. Fuck it, I didn’t even get dizzy. I only cried because on my laptop Netflix was playing S5 finale of Supernatural and it was a pretty sad scene. My poor Winchesters babies. (Yes, even when I thought I was dying it was Supernatural I was thinking about. Fuck you, too)

Needless to say, I didn’t die that day. I made a hell of a mess but I didn’t stop breathing. I’m still fucking alive, obviously.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to sound like someone who’s pathetic and needs help. I can still hold my own, thank you very much. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to listen to pot dealers, after all.

And I swear to The Hol Trinity that if someone tells me “You’re just 20 years old, you still have prospects,” or “You’re a kid and this is just a tantrum and you know nothing of real pain” I’ll throw a pan in their stupid face and then they’ll know what real pain is. Just because other people have it worse than me doesn’t mean I’m not relevant. I know everyone’s suffering. I know everyone feels like this. But I’m not everyone. I’m running on fumes here. If other people still have fires left, it’s because they’re made of stronger stuff than I am. Do not start preaching to me otherwise I’ll pull your guts out through your throat. (Fandom references all over.)

I’m still kinda sorta fine, because I have no other choice. I’m done trying to die because, I tried and it didn’t work. It’s not God’s will to put me out of my suffering just yet. My will wasn’t to make it to December 2016. But again, I’m just a human.

Maybe my lack of affection towards people is the reason I want to die. I mean I’m not completely out of touch with my human side. I still care about my family. I do what they say. I have friends. I help anyone who asks. I hold no grudges. I don’t hate anyone. But I don’t actually love anyone either. I don’t think I have it in me anymore to love another person. Be it my own blood or otherwise.

As for my coping mechanisms, it’s dark humour, cigarettes and Netflix. That’s it. I’m running on Internet and Smoke.

If there’s a light at the end if the tunnel, I don’t see it yet. And until I do, I’m not about to change a thing.

Stars on my body

​//  

I didn’t know what home was until I found him in the same one as me. He dripped cold water on my throat and watched it gather around my collarbone. He drank for my skin and ate from my heart. My soul, whatever left of it, was his reward. 

We wasted our days away in the taste of scotch and the smokes of cigarettes.  We sinned, we cried, we laughed and we talked. We talked while he ate away at my skin and we talked when I couldn’t tell his body from mine.  

He owned me, body and soul. Every time his body touched mine, he unlocked a part of me I didn’t know. He had me by my heart. The world said he’s crazy to trust me. They said I’m a fool to love him. He didn’t give a fuck about anything. He claimed me in front of everyone. Bone to skin, heart to mind, he left nothing.

He murmured in my ears, all the things I wanted to hear. He left on my skin the proof of his love. I dug my nails deep into his back, marking him mine. I gave him what he liked. He showed me what I liked.

He wasn’t just a man, no. He was more. He was my existence reduced into a person. He was my God.

 It was more than love.

 Love doesn’t hold the power to destroy me. 

It was magic, my personal hell. 

It was my own galaxy

//

Vow.

This post was published sometime around August’15. It got deleted and I managed to forget all about it like a complete ass. So here it is again, with little finishing twitches here and there and the concept has been borrowed from Tumblr. I read something like this and thought to try my hand at this.

7am: I wake up from a dream about you. I hate myself for having that dream for about 5 minutes then I jump into the shower.

7:15 am: I check my phone and there’s still no word from you. I throw the phone roughly on the bed and get ready for work.

1pm: I’ve drowned in work so I don’t think about you. But damn it to hell, nothing works. I can still smell you from the dream.

3pm: I eat lunch with a friend. Your name comes up and my stomach drops all the way to Satan’s cage. I lie and say whatever you do doesn’t concern me. I lie and say that I’m over you.

7pm: I come back to an empty home and the air gets heavier and more difficult to breathe. I take my phone out and read old messages to torture myself.

8pm: I have no idea how the bottle of water in my hand turned into a glass of whiskey. I read an old text which cuts me open from shoulder to waist in one stroke and I gasp for air.

8:30pm: The books you bought for me taunt me through the shelf while I make dinner for one. At this point, I’m ready to burn them to ashes and burn those ashes again. But I know I won’t, because I’ll desperately cling on to any memory of you.

9pm: TV seems stupid. Social media seems stupid. Laughing seems stupid. Breathing seems stupid. Stupid seems stupider. The only thing that doesn’t seem stupid is that I need you. I didn’t think I’d need you like this. I didn’t think that I’d stop existing if you left. But what’s the point? You already did, and you left those fucking memories.

10pm: Last night’s dream comes to mind, and I give into it. I give into the feeling of you touching me. The way you curse, the way you grind your teeth together in lust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you can’t handle any more, the feel of your cool lips against mine when you first kissed me, the taste of your blood when I bit your lip a little too hard. It fucks me up further to realize that you literally run in my bloodstream.

11pm: it seems like it’ll be an age before I hit the call button on my phone. Why should I call you? You made it clear that you don’t care then why should I?

2am: I figure out the answer. Because you’re the only one I could feel. Because I’ve tried fucking my way out of an empty heart but it doesn’t work. Because none of them could make me feel what you did with your mere words.

3am: I’m praying to every god I can think of to bring me a time machine.

4am: My phone rings and I know it’s you because….I don’t even have a reason how. All I know is that it’s you. I answer the call because I don’t see logic when it comes to you. I don’t see reason, or ways, or plans. And it hurt like shit when you chose logic. But then again, what’s the point? I’ll continue not seeing logic and you’ll continue following it.

4:05am: I invite you in.

6am: You’ve set me back to square one. Whatever little progress I’d made has been reduced to dust. You leave without a word. You don’t even look back. You don’t even say my name once. I make a solemn vow to myself to never let you in again, knowing that whenever, if at all, you call again, I’ll go running back to you.

7am: I laugh at myself. My arrogance got the better of me. What I thought could never break me has shattered me to pieces. I get up from the bed and start getting ready to spend yet another day in this mayhem we call “world”

No quitting. 

Yeah, this isn’t about “Not to give up on hope” kind of post. I gave up on hope a year ago.

This is about smoking. Let me take you back 2 years. I absolutely loathed smokers. I thought it was a nasty habit with absolutely no plus sides. I didn’t understand why anyone would want to inhale tobacco smoke. I’ve had major fights about this with people. I’ve done lame shit lime make people swear on my head that they’d never smoke again. If that were the case I would’ve been beheaded a thousand times. 

Now, I’m here typing this after smoking 5 of them myself. It started last new year. It was the first time I ever smoked and it was not pretty. My lungs burnt for 3 days. But then in May I smoked hash for the first time. It did absolutely nothing. It was a waste of money. But then I smoked another cigarette. That worked. 

I don’t admit this fact that I smoke. In fact not even a handful of  people know I do this. I’m kinda surprised my mom hasn’t found out yet. I don’t even chew a gum after I smoke. 

I’ve tried quitting but I don’t really have any reason to do so. I don’t want to live long. I’m not worried about some kind of cancer, either. It doesn’t even smell after 10 minutes so there goes my worry about smelling bad. Well, I will admit it is a little expensive, because I don’t work anymore. But I manage that part. 

I’ve been doing my best to lie as little as possible since almost two years now. But if asked about this, I’ll straight out deny it. I don’t care if they saw me firsthand smoking outside of The Nest (which is the only place where I smoke apart from my roof) I’ll deny it.

Most of all, I’m allowed to have bad habit. At least I’m not snorting cocaine before my morning coffee. I can have one guilty indulgence. 

So anyone who called me a hypocrite, you were right.

Congratulations.

You can go suck it.

Idiot

I have a lot of weird friends, okay? In fact all of them are weird. There’s no such thing as a normal human being. 

Keeping that in mind, know what when I say I’ve known all kinds of people, I know what I’m talking about. They’re not all my friends, of course but they’re people I’ve known. This includes male chauvinists, feminazis, misogynists, cheaters, douchebags, racists, brats, privileged sons, overcompensated daughters, social workers, and one was even a male sex worker. 

But never have I ever met a man so closed off to other people’s opinions than the one I met yesterday. In all fairness, it wasn’t the first time I met or talked with him. We were what you call it…dating? Actually, no. Dating would imply that there were romantic feelings involved. All sorts of other feelings were involved but romantic ones were sure as hell not one of them.

He’s accomplished in academic senses. He’s about to become a CA. He’s doing his MBA from one of the best universities in India. He’s funny in a dry humour kinda way. I did notice over the last few months that he’s a bit stubborn when it comes to his opinions but I thought as long as he doesn’t offend me or anyone I care about, why should I care?

Yesterday  that sumbitch crossed all lines, and all of them one after the other. I’m not a vegetarian. He didn’t like that. He gave me all sorts of lectures about how “meat is murder” and “animals have feelings” and shit like that. Yeah sure, of course the hamster who ate all her babies has deep feelings of regret towards her actions. I told him about evolution and how the only reason we grew to be the higher species was because we hunted other animals for our supplies. It didn’t work. If it were upto him, we’d all have died before we ever became homo erectus. 

Then through the topic of hating non vegans, he just downright stated that he hates Islam. I was done, then. He knows nothing about Islam, hasn’t read the Quran, doesn’t know the reason behind their goat sacrifice, hasn’t even had a Muslim friend in his life, and he has the audacity to say that he hates Islam. According to him terrorism would be wiped out if Islam ceased to exist. 

Isn’t that the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard in your life?

I’m not a Muslim. I’m no expert on Islam, either. But you know what? I’m not stupid enough to say that I hate something without knowing anything about it. I hate something after having tried it or at least knowing as much as I can about it. In order to hate something, you first must’ve loved it. I don’t think that I need to explain to anyone here that Islam and terrorism aren’t synonymous to each other, do I? Good. 

I took it to heart because some of the best people I’ve known in my life are Muslims. They’re kind, sophisticated, and even they condemn terrorism. Saying that you hate all Muslims because of something a particular group of people does is so fucking dumb. Terrorists are people who happen to be Muslims. Nowhere does the Quran say all the things that terrorism preaches. You know what it does say? It teaches peace. It teaches equality. It condemns materialistic behaviour. If there is war, the Quran says that you cannot hurt women, children, cattle, and crops. 

It’s not just about Islam. I respect all religions and I’ll defend all of them the same way. I know sometimes what religion says doesn’t make sense, but then again, why not focus on the good things it teaches us? Why bash someone else’s faith? 

I understand that people have their opinions, and they have a right to form them as they please. Let’s take ne for example. I don’t like it when someone drinks in front of me. It makes me very uncomfortable. But still because I have friends who drink, I don’t tell them they can’t do something just because I have a problem with it. They don’t force me to drink. They don’t get trashed and create a scene. Everyone goes home happy. 

You can choose to be a vegetarian. You can choose to eat meat. You’re free to do whatever you want. What you’re not allowed to do is force your believes on anyone else. Making someone see your side is different than dragging them to your side by the hair. Don’t do the latter. Be a dope human and just…don’t.

And as far that dude is concerned, he plays the fucking violin. What does he think violin strings are made out of? Fairy hair? His shaving gel, the lotion, the shampoo, the whatever it is that comes under mens’ cosmetics… They’re all tested on animals. Talk about double standards. Needless to say, that particular peice of communal shit isn’t a part of my life anymore.

Idiot.

Cruel trick of mind: 2

​I’ve had my share of bizarre dreams, okay? It seldom ever happens that something which my mind dreamt has left me distraught for days without an end. The first time it ever happened was in 2013. I dreamt that my grandfather is back to life. He even had a scientific explanation for it. Christ, did that dream hurt like a bitch when I woke up.

This time, I had the best conversation of my life. I swear to almighty God, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to make that be real. It was just so simple. We were talking on the phone, being balls-out honest, and I said everything I had bottled up in me for the past year. 

It was just so real. I’m usually aware that I’m dreaming. I’m in the dream but I know it’s all over the minute I open my eyes. Not this time, though. You know how when you’re talking on the phone there are several little disturbances like someone calling your name, or a text message alert…even that was on point. 

Then what hurts most is the voice. I’d never heard something so clear in my life. It was like I could touch it if I wanted to, and I really, really wanted to. As pathetic as it sounds, a conversation that only happened in my mind is enough to drive me for months.

Imagine my devastation when I woke up. More than that, imagine how pissed I was at myself, because I’ve spent a major part of the past year trying not to think about that particular thing. I’ve done everything, I mean everything one can do to get over such things. From psychological books to Cosmo magazine; I’ve done it all. It wasn’t even on my mind the night before this godforsaken dream appeared. 

It’s like all my progress has been brought back to square one. All I want to do is roll up in a ball and never get out of my bed.

Bottom line? I had the best conversation of my life, in my dreams, with a man I can’t call anymore. It sucks ass.

*Picture by Sanjana Dawani. Check out her pages on Facebook and Instagram 

Disintegration

(This is long and boring and just urgh. So feel free to skip this one)

This past month has been so, so bad that I don’t even know how I’m even alive to write this. It’s not for the lack of trying, but we won’t go there today.

Stress and anxiety will kill you.

I’m not quoting some medical journal, these are my own observations. I had dealt with depression and mania in the past but this…this is different. I do everything right. I eat right, I do yoga, I dance, and my sleeping schedule is also decent. There was a time when I couldn’t fall asleep before 3:00 am, and now I can barely keep my eyes open till midnight. At any point of time, unless I have plans, I’m always asleep. I still make plans to go out in the hope that maybe my monotony is what ails me. I still do my make up and go around as if there is nothing that bothers me. I have only talked to two friends about it. I’m a little off topic. Yes, so the thing is that I know depression. I understand it. Being lethally depressed is kind of my comfort zone when compared to anxiety.

Anyway, the first thing to make me realize that there was something seriously wrong with me was when I went temporarily blind in my right eye after I woke up one morning. (I know, right?) I thought it was an allergic reaction because I tight line my upper-lash line or because I wore mascara a lot. I even had half a mind to sue Urban Decay. The doctor had a different opinion. After my vision came back in about 6 hours,  the doctor told me to get some tests done to check my vitamin levels and told me to eat a lot of salads and vitamins and what not. I knew it then that this wasn’t caused by some vitamin deficiency but my mental health. I was one step closer to breaking down.

Then, about two weeks the app on my phone made me realize that my period hadn’t arrived for two months. The first thought in my head was, of course, “Holy shit, I’m pregnant.” But then logic kicked in that I wasn’t. I checked and also, I’d be gaining weight instead of losing it, if I was. It’s funny how we always jump to that conclusion. But anyway, this time I went to a gyno and that lady was so nice and concerned about me. She gave prescribed me some syrups and told me to do yoga. So I did exactly what she told me to do. It’s been more than a month but I’m yet to see any changes. “Aunt Flo”  hasn’t visited either.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ungrateful for the life that I have. I’m very, very grateful to be able to have a chance at higher education, food and shelter. I’m not saying that my life sucks. I’m saying I do. My mind has become so fragile that it’s not able to control my body. I’m losing touch of who I am. I cannot believe the person I’ve turned into. I wasn’t this brand-toting bitch who gave a crap about what the difference between blue toned red and orange toned red was. I had legit one pair of floaters and now look at me. I could be suicidal as all hell and yet my self esteem wouldn’t suffer. It’s super weird.

Again, my life isn’t all bad either. I go out a lot. I hang out at this place called “The Nest” almost every day. I read a lot over there. Whenever this certain friend of mine comes to town, those couple of days are always amazing. My anxiety levels drop drastically. I eat a lot more and I sleep better, too. I think he knows how much he helps because he’s started coming down more often than what I think is convenient. It’s not just him, my friends in general are lifesaving. When I was in my suicidal phase I talked to Ruchi and Bebo, friends of mine from school. If I’m alive today it’s mainly because of those two.

But still there’s this… Thing in my head. It’s just there and I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what it is. I mean I have seen people die of stress. Hell, my baba died of stress, so I should know. Even if I don’t actively take actions to end my existence, it doesn’t matter. It’s happening on its own.

I’m sorry if it didn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t make sense, either.