Sigh.

The first few days back home were bliss. Well, or so I felt. I was elated, so happy I’d finally be able to sit with my family, hug my mom and dad, discuss politics and business with my uncle. . . cuddle my dogs, and tease my lil bro (cousin though he may be).

For a while, I forgot all the tensions Pune left me to deal with.

I forgot about the anguish I felt when our ‘group’ split.

I forgot the gossip that found its way through college, I forgot my small PG room which I share with my ‘twin’. I forgot so many things that troubled me that I was convinced I’d never want to go back.

Well, I’m erratic. And I was so wrong.

I want nothing more than to sit in my one room PG, alone, and not care about the rest of the world. I want nothing more than to lie down, lose myself in a book (The Song of Ice and Fire series to be more specific), and breathe in the stench of that not-so marvelous city. I don’t even mind the gossip.

I want this pain to go away.

I want these memories to fade.

I want to be healed, but there’s just no scope for that right now.

Everything’s getting worse.

Way worse.

And I’m so tired of handling it.

My cousin gets brattier by the minute, and my uncles health sure isn’t improving. Dad’s calmer than the rest of them, and that’s saying a lot given I have his temper (which fuses every five seconds of the day- yes, I’m exaggerating that).

I don’t care that externals are around the corner.

I don’t care that there are vacations right after that again.

I don’t think I’m coming back those 20 days.

I think it’s time I took a break for myself and stayed away from everything familiar.

Yes. I think that’ll do me some good.

That, and some Old Monk.

Lots of Old Monk.