Today, I completed my slum report, which was due in January. Right now, I am unable to express any emotion of joy or satisfaction because the trauma that I had been going through in ACJ Chennai, the shreds of it still remain. There have been days when I have resorted to scribbling away my jumbled thoughts. Till date, I don’t feel fine. I have forgotten how to feel fine. There is a kind of monotony in every aspect of my life. I find happiness in nothing. The loss of regularity, the loss of my true love, the loss of didu, the addict phase, the unsettling feeling of a constant changing self has left me broken or to be more appropriate, unfeeling. Something happened to me there, I cannot name it. I did not precisely like what I was studying, mostly because I never had a knack in Journalism. It happened in a whim. One moment I was struggling with low marks in my English graduation final exam, the other moment I got selected in one of the best J colleges in the country. It was surreal, in a weird way. I wish I could erase this memory and start afresh. If you ask me if I’d like going to back to who I was then my answer would be a NO. But, then what do I really want? I have asked that question to myself a million times. I don’t know. There is this feeling of discomfort and distance in every thing I do. The work I do, the people I talk to, the things I do. One thing that I truly wished for as far I can remember is a better memory. I struggle at remembering things. I struggle learning new things. I get flustered if I am exposed to something new. I want confidence and most importantly, a goal, a purpose. No matter where I go or whomever I am with, there’s this uneasy feeling and I’m never satisfied. Dear Lord, I may not have been substantial earlier but, I guess I was happier. I have caused pain to a lot of people in my life in the past year. First, my mother. It began with the article l wrote on her (circling around my life) and the disdain I have for a life like hers. Mostly how she wasted her life on my father. She might not be the brightest but definitely loves me to the fullest. And in the article, I projected an objection to being like her in the future. I praised my unfaithful father, only because of his sheer knowledge. I’d still he might be a bad husband but a good human. Lately, he has been trying to be a good father too. Both of us were really close when I was a kid but then the mistrust happened when tried cheating on mother. Somehow, that memory refuses to go away. My sister never played any role in this matter, by then she found her would-be husband and was mostly invested in him. So, I was left in the house, listening to my mother rambling about father. I used to object listening because it was a bitter truth and I couldn’t take it in. Starting from 11th grade, till now I haven’t had a brilliant track record in academics. I wonder why. I like reading but I think I get lazy during exams. But, in contrary, I believe I function the most during such upheavals. I resorted to meditation during grad years I woke up suddenly, don’t know to what. Don’t know what to listen or to watch, in a fix at this moment. Iron and Wine music seems soothing now. Or pieces are fallen. We can weep and calling it singing. We will pray when our hearts are stronger. We get a chance to sing when we ease away. To hear sounds of people. Just want somebody near me, someone to kiss. Nobody, nobody, nobody…just asking for a kiss See-saw. Subway, maaaaaaaaaaaaaa….I miss her but she isn’t here. I am tipsy but fell asleep. I supposed to read or watch something. An influence of Beatles’ posters, the music is clumsy.
What you gotta do me with me. PUNCH DRUNK, DUMB STRUCK, POT LUCK, HAPPY HAPPY, that’s my motto right now. Light the candle. I feel good tonight. There’s a kind of relaxing sensation and also a willingness to live a little more and give life another chance. Things change, people drift apart but the thing that remains constant, is the change that we undergo and still hold a single thread that pulls all the memories of the past. I have that thread in me and not willing to let it go. Does it make me a sad person? No…probably a keeper. A jarful of memories and I take it along with me everywhere. No, it does not restrict me from making fresh memories, just makes them richer, round and fuller. I haven’t made any new acquaintances, still a little apprehensive. Who wants all the memories to be erased? Few of course but, I do not want to die with any regrets. I’ll contain.