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I just spent the last two hours reading old posts about the last time I had moved back home from Delhi because of reasons in and out of my control. I thought I'd cringe, but I did a lot of laughing and felt bad for 24-year-old me. She was really struggling. Possibly more than the 28-year-old is struggling right now, because I don't have an abusive boss this time around.

But all the emotions, all the resentment, it's all still there. How do I always go back to square one? It's a mystery but not a good one. I guess it's just lack of progress on my part. I don't rise to the occasion, I don't carpe diem. I never carpe diem.

My current boss is a sweet hippie-type woman who says stuff like, "let your mind heal your body". I try not to laugh in her face, but I often fail. I have been dealing with some severe health issues in the last one month, and the last thing I want to do is heal myself. That's what the fucking doctors are getting paid for.

My mother thinks I always fall sicker here than in Delhi because my heart is not in this city. Which... could be true but sounds like a load of shit. Because my heart has no idea where it is. Is it in Delhi, living an independent but drifting life? Is it with my ex, who can now never be with me but refuses to let go? Is it in the MAC store of DLF Promenade, where everything would magically get okay? Who knows? I don't.

I feel like I've forgotten how to blog. In fact, I just wrote to a friend that I have completely stopped blogging. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to change that. But all the self-righteous angst of my 24-year-old self reminded me that chronicling how shitty my life here was made it 0.1% better, and I wanted to see if that would happen again.