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...I write to you because I need to know. what it is I'm looking to know, I'm not too sure. I write because you're the only person - I'm aware of - who I can seek solace from. I know not of anyother. or anything. that is probably why i shut you out. to look for things, not instead of you, but other than you. with you. to look for things I can generate out of my scattered fragments of belief. I look for a figment of my unknown imagination.

On being "positive" and "productive"

So much for my New Year's resolutions working out. (So, does one write New Year with 'n' and 'y' in caps even when not wishing people Happy New Year?)

I was never good at taking decisions. To stay in, or go out. To call. Or to give in. To step out. But what about the seemingly bigger things? - people who you need to have around. academic modules that might need you to step out of your academic comfort zone.

Where did introspection go? Or self-reliance for that matter?

I've been in this hazy time warp for the last two months. Cloudy sensibilities and intermittent waves of activity. I'm stagnating in a drugged sense of self.

Waltzing

..So a large part of me was aww-ing the first's others around me had.
I was reveling in the lost glory of all the nervous interpreting and wondering, the confidence seeping in, comfort settling down, and the cheek-warmingly endless smiling.
Knowing-not-knowing is one of the biggest highs I have experienced.
And so, a part of me - wishing - I could start all over again...

Till a mundane cyber conversation, sitting amidst computer terminals and deadlines of all kinds, later - three years was three years, for a reason.

time, relatively..

How long? or how many times..before something qualifies as a habit?

Aww-inducing!

Hearing someone snore, over the phone, 5023 miles away is one of the most comforting things in the world.

Inexplicable..

...in a moment of weakness.

There are those that are loved. I think I take them for granted now. The second rung come and go, I think. There was one there and I think you're in passing here.

Do you think of me at all?

The realization

Of course, it's all okay. Transitions and new beginnings are fables anyway. It is just the moments of wanting to flee - the crowd, the inexplicable notions running into each other and collapsing and the self - that make me want to pull the covers upto my chin and sleep in.

I cannot bear to think that the next nine months will not resolve everything. That the insecurities will not be dealt and put away on the shelf. I took it for granted that you just stop questioning yourself after a Master's degree. I cannot bear the thought of dealing with myself till am 85 - sitting on my rocking chair, knitting jumpers of self-doubts and undermined confidence.

You follow yourself everywhere. So where does the new beginning start?

I cant say no and I cannot speak up. Sentences interspersed with blah blah because the apparent coherent me upped it and left for Spain. Or maybe, she was never there.

London was where I came to do what I wanted to. When the hell did the ghosts of the obligatory past colonise the spaces for me?

The new me never shows up. Everyone around sheds their old skin effortlessly and metamorphises into the butterfly. I haven't even built my cocoon yet.