Solitude.

“Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children.” 

-         The Book Thief, Markus Zusack

Life, in all its turbulence, teaches you a lot till one day it seems like this pointless, unending journey. Small fact- we’re all going to die yet we act like we’ll live forever. I don’t. I just take death for granted. I don’t live life to the fullest, but I do what I want when I want to. That’s more than enough for me.

People can walk away of their own free will as and when they please, and I will be coerced into believing I made a mistake trusting, loving them for a while. . . till they become people I no longer recognize- strangers in a crowd of familiar faces. . . but that’s okay. It happens.

No running  away this time. I haven’t the will to. It has failed me this time.

Right now. .  I eat loneliness ‘cause it’s where I find comfort. Somehow, I manage to survive through the worst in my life when I’m the most alone. I find that strength to deal with whatever Fate has decreed to throw my way, or rub in my face. No need for friends whom I adore, no need for family to teach me to stay strong. No need for people who can make me cave in, shatter my barriers. No requirement for human company. They’ve been pushed away till I find myself capable of human contact again. And I’m glad, I think, that most of them allow it, understand it, even if they dislike it.

For now. . .

Just books. Music. The wind. My dogs.

Sometimes. . . just nothing.

Nothing at all.

That city I now live in changed me. Made me someone I grew to despise. Someone that wasn’t me. . . someone I managed to slaughter, cold-heartedly whilst enjoying every infernal moment with grim satisfaction.

It feels good being this girl again.

Feels good being that Bangalore girl I thought I’d lost somewhere.

I’m still here.

I’m still me.

I can never be anyone else.

“Smile with instinct, then lick your wounds in the darkest of dark corners. Trace the scars back to your own fingers and remember them.” 

-         Fighting Reuben Wolfe