I completed a year of my second innings in Delhi on Thursday. I had a fairly demoralizing meeting with my boss that day, so I forgot. I don’t usually forget milestones. The next day, when they got a cake for me for completing a year at work, I realized, ‘oh.’ Oh, it’s been a year. The person who returned to Delhi was happy, confident, radiant, and thin. The person cutting this cake is sad, jaded, fading, and fat. How can a year make such a difference, people often wonder. I think if you stop trying, that makes all the difference. In 2015, I stopped trying to hold on to my dream job that had become a nightmare, so I rose from the dead. In 2016, I stopped trying to keep myself happy, so I became unrecognizable. I just wish someone would tell me why.
No one I know blogs often now, at least not the people because of whom I used to be so motivated to blog. I started blogging eight years ago, at 18. Then, it seemed like my life will always be worth writing about. Now, there’s hardly anything that makes sense on paper (or on the screen). But I still think about my (old) blog often. Why can’t I let go? Delete this shell of a blog and just give up entirely? Why is it so hard for me to shake off the past?
People around me are in the process of Figuring It Out. Most people I know are in the bracket of 25-30, so this is a pretty stressful time for all of us. And while I know everyone has issues, I can also see everyone sorting things out one by one. Someone just landed a dream job, someone just married their long-time lover, someone just had a baby and can barely stop smiling. I don’t even know what my dream job is, marriage is just something my parents obsess over, and I don’t even want to babysit. What does that say about me?
My ex got married last week. Can I call him my ex? I don’t know. My on and off boyfriend of five years. How else do I refer to him now? I thought five years entitled me to a phone call. Not a WhatsApp picture from one of our mutual contacts. I’m not going to lie. It stung. I’m not suddenly in love with him because he’s married now, but I am freaked out. We broke up in April and he married some girl in November. How does that work? And why is everyone placing so much importance on marriage?
This blog was supposed to be a new start, me shaking off all that baggage. But I’m never changing, am I? I think they call it ennui.
No one I know blogs often now, at least not the people because of whom I used to be so motivated to blog. I started blogging eight years ago, at 18. Then, it seemed like my life will always be worth writing about. Now, there’s hardly anything that makes sense on paper (or on the screen). But I still think about my (old) blog often. Why can’t I let go? Delete this shell of a blog and just give up entirely? Why is it so hard for me to shake off the past?
People around me are in the process of Figuring It Out. Most people I know are in the bracket of 25-30, so this is a pretty stressful time for all of us. And while I know everyone has issues, I can also see everyone sorting things out one by one. Someone just landed a dream job, someone just married their long-time lover, someone just had a baby and can barely stop smiling. I don’t even know what my dream job is, marriage is just something my parents obsess over, and I don’t even want to babysit. What does that say about me?
My ex got married last week. Can I call him my ex? I don’t know. My on and off boyfriend of five years. How else do I refer to him now? I thought five years entitled me to a phone call. Not a WhatsApp picture from one of our mutual contacts. I’m not going to lie. It stung. I’m not suddenly in love with him because he’s married now, but I am freaked out. We broke up in April and he married some girl in November. How does that work? And why is everyone placing so much importance on marriage?
This blog was supposed to be a new start, me shaking off all that baggage. But I’m never changing, am I? I think they call it ennui.
