I am watching One Day on TV right now, and I suddenly have too many feelings about 2011. The movie isn’t even that great, even though it has Anne Hathaway in it. But it was the book that cemented a work friendship that went on to become so much more. The book understood what it’s like to be in your twenties, I used to say, even though I was just 21 at the time. Four years later, I still don’t know much about what it’s like to be in your twenties. Confused? Desperate? But 2011 was a good year. I got the job, which I very dramatically quit two months ago, and I was so happy, so eager to please, so invincible with my writing and my potential and my newfound freedom in Delhi. The days, all days, weekends included, were meant for work, and most nights, too. But the evenings I didn't spend at work, I spent with someone I now go to great lengths to avoid. My twenties are only half-over, but every day I worry that the rest of this decade will go exactly the same way, while simultaneously thinking about what I’m going to do if it doesn't.

If I hadn’t quit, I’d have been in Delhi right now for fashion week. That’s all there is to know about my mood right now.