Prose before hos

At the cusp of 33, I've achieved so much and so little this year that it feels like there's been no movement when the rocket has actually run out of fuel. Agreed, most of this has not been towards tangible results but the lessons will go a long way, especially, the ones charted in holding myself together through really tough times. 

One of my biggest regrets this year is that I've been nicer than I wanted to; out of obligation and mostly to hold on to things that I know were bad for me to deal with. I should have said a lot more fuck you-s and walked out of things and situations that were clearly meant to exploit me and yet, I stayed till I realised I'm not terrified of those. Things I would have ordinarily quit or run away from, I embraced wholeheartedly and let my hands get dirty. Perhaps, it was to ask myself, are you really running away from it without trying or are you scared of failing again. That one belief to not give up, cost me a lot

I wish I had been more of my 20s self, but that version made her mistakes and it's time to make fresh ones. Maybe, in my 40s, I'd regret not telling enough people fuck off and hate myself for holding on to hope but today, it felt like the right thing to do. In no way is this over, but I know that I'm exhausting myself with all my repeated efforts and attempts to turn situations around where I'm not dealt with the cards fairly or even at a level playing field. This includes professional and personal boundaries being eroded and trying my best to carry on day after day. 

The stars may have lots but apparently, they are unfolding the same goddamn things. I was approached by a man from many moons ago for a plan we made when we were young and I believed in him. Out of nowhere, bam, he tells me he'll be in the same city/country as me and how we should meet. It's the same godfucking guy, doing the same godfucking thing and turning the situation in the exact same way as he did in 2017, 2018 and left me in a place that was so dark that I'm where I am. On top of everything that audacity to say, "I hope it works out for you" when I brought up what's been going on with me and that I don't need his help/sympathy.

Making up your mind to never speak again but losing your goddamn mind when there's no check-in post-dinner

Knowing your shit will not fly and yet pooping hard to ruin the day

Screaming, crying, throwing up to change your ways to save and impulse-buying onion fritters twice in one week

Not working out for two months only to crush intense workout goals in the face of a huge health concern scare

Wanting to complain but keeping quiet for the peace of everyone

Telling yourself 'I got you' and then feeling a flatline of deep loneliness 

Planning to quit everything that doesn't honour and respect you back, only to keep crawling back all day, every day

Ranting for three years that things were so bad, and then romanticising, dreaming, considering a third chance five years later because we've seen it all together 

Believing in the best potential and change of heart while ignoring the red carpets flying by 

Onion Pakoda > Onion Bhaji

Also, not the best idea to continue workouts when injured

Retrograde doesn't always have to sweep your ex to the shore. It could be your old self, a layer you shed to make way for the new one, calling you back. It could be an old job, where colleagues seem wonderful and boss seems to have mellowed, it could be the smell of the festive season that fills you with joy for a time that doesn't exist anymore. It could be a chimera, a vision of all that could have been and yet, remains lost. 

To be fair to you, the resentment has been wildly public. It showed up in intermittent conversations and check-ins. My therapist knows nothing of the lad so it also explains hiding, and keeping it away means I'm locking up a part of my life that is very clearly bothering me. 

He said some hurtful shit last night. The kind that made me sick the same minute. My mum thinks it's the mall aircon and he thinks it's seasonal viral. I think it's him but I had been sneezing all day yesterday. 

In a way, I have cut myself out from my anger. I've cut the bleeding organ and kept no parts of it as memory. My effort, resilience, anger all washed away and all I am left with is grief, vacuum, and the courage to make peace with it. It comes with nothing but god it's an exciting space to be brave and bold and idiotic. I can't write anymore, I don't read anymore, I don't have a single valuable insight but I'm fucking free. I can be myself, wholly cringe and unacceptable, basic as hell and fat as fuck. 

Honesty is telling yourself you suck so you can cut some slack to your inner critic whose first response after watching you burn three months' salary on jewellery was—"Bitch, why?"

On one hand, I'm telling my therapist I can't wait to quit and run and on the other side I'm ensuring financial ruin so I'll be forced to work for at least a year before I can take a brain. Just fucking wow. 

I've been wondering lately, where are my friends? Not like in life but more like we don't hang out, we don't even talk, it's not like they're busy with their kids (most of them are in healthy relationships, with/without marriage) so really, if it's not their toddlers, then what is preventing us to have ragers?

I've spent more time at home and at the airport than I have spent with my friends and that's not a monthly average but more like a year's worth of quota—took more flights than met my friends or vice versa. 

Maybe my friends hate but I do definitely hate them so what do I even say. It's okay to let them go and if they don't come back, likely that you (in this case—me) are an asshole. Yippiekayay. 

I bought my first fucking piece of gold, diamond, platinum all at once 2 days ago. While platinum was on the list, I felt fucking greedy around the other more, like some weird form of FOMO when I don't even wear this stuff. I think partly it's just coming to terms with what my life is looking like—no man, no marriage, nothing of the serious adult kind so might as well fake a reverie. Bought gold and diamonds for myself so nobody's crusty son can ever be the first to say he bought me my first ice. At the same time, to feel like you don't fucking need to produce someone's sons to be able to buy yourself those. I don't even care that much for these things and yet it felt like the time was right. 

Something in my heart screamed wanting to do it because I wanted it and I didn't fucking want anyone else to satisfy that urge, scratch that itch for me. Nobody does it like you do it for yourself. 

I read this quote earlier today that when I find a boyfriend, my boyfriend is gonna know what he missed and I never resonated more to a line. But again, I've gone from a "ahaha" person to "grief is upon us" in 14 hours of work and 3 hours of sleep. Life feels fucking hard. The only person who truly wants me to show up daily is my corn on cob guy, "Aap itna late kyun aate ho?"

Fuck even my boyfriend doesn't care for me as much, and none of my friends have asked me about my well-being or whereabouts, although I can confirm I've been a missed call in their list at least twice in June, if not more. 

The other day I burnt some sage and while blowing to extinguish, I accidentally burnt my hand. The embers lit my right hand and for the last two days it's been hurting like a bitch. Never thought demon resides so close to me. 

Anyway, I'm in a flop circle. No job, no friends, no salary, no respite, no love, no time from the man, no validation, nothing. Everyone is still continuing to suck so I don't know where that promised glow up is stuck. 

Love looks like an old friend; who's always stopped shared public transport to bring me ice cream. He doesn't eat sugar anymore so the Sundae was all mine. 

Ten years ago, there was peanut butter caramel ice cream between work. This time it was a local specialty, "Ice Apple Sundae, just try and tell me"

It's about surrendering yourself into the hands of someone who knows the city and knows you. That's the spot where magic happens. "If I can't take you around the city I've known all my life, what else am I good for?" I did the same, I would have done it for anyone, but he always surrendered, always gave in and trusted me. That's why we made a great team. 

Surrender, I did. 

How is it that your old friends know you better than anyone else in the world? My food, habits, fixtures, everything was unquestionably palatable. I was unapologetically myself- unbearable, impulsive, chaotic and loud and he complimented my ways- validated my unbearable lifestyle, and added to the impulsiveness with bad ideas ("Let the expert among us figure where to find a spot to smoke"), he was the calm to my chaos. Made me feel cared for (No, you need to eat dinner, just get something; Let's go to Town for breakfast, it'll be worth it) when I had abandoned myself (I was on ibuprofen, coffee and two Vada Pav). 

When you meet people from back when you hadn't undergone severe traumatic events one after the other, your old self comes to life for a hot minute. Bombay, between work, felt exactly like that. I was on fumes and caffeine but this man and his love for me kept me alive. When I look back, we befriended each other over a work project and little did I know I'd have found myself a person who'd be a walking antidote to my severe depressive state in 2024. "My mum can't make you Sabudana Vada on such a short notice but she's sending yous some Puran Poli you can take home."

I am so glad the butterfly effect of not having to go to the UK meant I met my old friend during this work trip. I realised that I must have done something right in my life to meet a friend who went above and beyond for me years after I dropped nail paint on his bed during our initial work meeting. 

I'm cold. It's 45 degrees indoors and I'm cold. My tummy hurts, everything hurts. I attempt to cry but I'm all dried out. No tears left to cry. 

I finally shed between number crunching when I see his hands. I don't know why I do it. I swear on all things holy, this never affected me, but I suppose I needed any excuse of a reason today. His hands, the ones that were always holding mine, all mine. 

I don't know, something about his hands broke me and I bawled. It's long overdue. I've kept a straight face for over a day and a half and if you were anywhere near me in the last 48 hours you'd know that I was a mess. I fucking hate living through transitions and sitting through dread and grief. I'm grieving his loss. I want to be alone for a while. I want to be jobless for a while. I keep going in circles, I told myself I'd never be jobless but my present self is begging my old self to let me be jobless for the foreseeable future or we'll land up with broken bones in a jumping off the building attempt. I ask my colleague if she'd help make a case for why I jumped. Before she can answer in earnestness she's pulled into a meeting. 

Am I sad because I'm dealing with a narc for a boss? I don't know. I think about how I've lasted over 18 hours working without a single thought. I miss my sister, I reckon it's the real reason why I'm miserable. I've learnt to detach from things like these so why is it affecting me? I told myself through the last weekend nothing matters and yet I keep thinking through how we are breaking everything that is sacred.

I'm asked thrice about how are things with the boy. I ignore that like I ignore all the questions about my well-being and if I need help. I begrudgingly accept help but still don't come to talk about how are we. I feel I'm not supported by anyone including the one who should be rooting for me but that's a P3 grouse. P0 is that I need a new job, P1 is that I need to get out of this situationship and look out for myself.

We wouldn't go a day without talking. Now it's a weekly ritual. We barely talk, we barely even acknowledge the other person has gone missing. I was reading about three stages of situationship, where the third stage is mutual ghosting. I wondered if we'll get there together or individually. Looks like it's happening at once. I want to talk but I'm tired. We also always go in circles. "Oho", "Oh Damn", "rough", "cold" and the last time I brought up my grouses I was told nothing. There was no response. I'm tired of bringing my grouses. I am told nothing and my ability to raise issues becomes an issue.

I miss my therapist but also I think I can no longer afford therapy. When I got to this point, I wasn't able to afford therapy without a job. Today, despite a job, I can't afford therapy. I can buy my sister a meal worth more than 2 sessions but would I plunder that amount on myself to heal? Never. I'm the problem. I'm cold. It's 45 degrees indoors. My tummy hurts, my ribs hurt, everything hurts. I finally cry my eyes out. I've a lot more in me. 

I miss being myself. I miss having hope. I'm all out of it. Except tears, that's a supply which never fails me. 

Shiv Roy wouldn't, I just know it. She wouldn't be this sad even while she's pmsing.