It’s going to be 2 years. Just 20 more days and it’ll be 2 years since THAT DAY.

The day I had an abortion, my pet died and my best friend died.

The day after which I… I don’t know. I just lost myself. To deal with shit I had moved to Goa. Stayed with her for half a year. Lived. Planned our future together. We both were equally messed up. Needed each other.

We had dreams. Aspirations. And we were going to push each other to achieve them.

And then she died. Took my unborn and my boochi with her. Selfish bitch. She left me. Who gave her permission to die. To leave me.

Dammit! It’s been 2 years. Fucking 2 years crying over it. I need to let her move on. I NEED to move on. It’s time. It’s high time.


Spot the difference

But why can’t you lose weight, she frowned
Another bag of chips, I smilingly drowned
It doesn’t matter who you are or what you do
There will always be something new

Something lacking something less
In a tidy little world, a tiny giant mess
An odd one, a black sheep, a misfit, a thorn
Something different from what they’ve always known

But is that bad? Aren’t differences cherished?
Or is the discriminated person blemished?
Who is to decide who is right
Is this a war you are willing to fight?

You hide your shortcomings under your make up
Afraid, when the dream ends and you have to wake up!
A bag of chips, and I’m ready to go
Is that the right way, I don’t know!

Maybe I’m good maybe I’m bad
But if beauty is the only criteria, you will be sad
Disappointed and depressed, coz I will lose
So let’s smile at the positives and call a truce

Statue of emotions

My Grandfather’s best friend is dying. Possible in a day or two. I remember spending my childhood vacations visiting them, being fed by the aunt while I ran around, sliding down the banister of their giant house, playing with their grandchildren. We, my brother and me, were always treated special because we were the first grandchildren in their entire friend’s circle.

I got the news today. A couple of hours ago, and I got emotional. Ofcourse I controlled expressing it. He has been ill for a while with alzheimer’s and dementia. So maybe this was good for him. He loved living with dignity.

Today was a tiring and tough day. There was a delay in a deliverable from my company… Which I started after a hugggeee break of being unemployed. That was and still is scary. The clients haven’t responded and I’m literally chewing my nails.

A long meeting in the afternoon went on longer than expected and I ended up staining my clothes. Luckily my top was long and covered the stains.

I returned back from all this… And heard the sucky news.

I was fine, talking normally… Then I started becoming low. Played mobile games to distract myself and pinched myself till I focused on something else.

Later while mentioning to my mother who noticed my mood swing that maybe this news was the reason, she said it sounded far fetched. Because I’m an unemotional person who would say that practically it made sense for him to die.

Yes I would. That’s true. Probably because I sometimes don’t understand emotions… Probably because sometimes the intensity hits so hard that I can’t deal with it. So I may seem like a bubbly fun girl who sometimes is very practical and has a poker face. But don’t be duped. I’m bubbling underneath with feelings that I can’t even name.

I want to cry. Want to vent. Want a friend. But hey… Why? After all, I’m just an emotional statue.

Off the grid

I’m not ok. I went to watch a play today. And I felt so low and lonely and disconnected from a world that used to be mine. One to which I belonged… And how.

I miss it. I crave the adrenaline. I miss the creativity. The rush of creating something. Something that’s yours. That you conceived. That you partook in. That you…

Forget creating one… I am not even function enough to go watch one.

I’m always so tired. Of life. The world. Everything.

Is it normal to feel this tired? And I’m so fat. I didn’t realise I’d become this huge. When I look at my pics, I don’t relate to them. Coz in my head I look like something else.

I’m so disconnect from reality. In so many ways. My disassociation seems like the last thing keeping me off the grid.


Very low. Been crying thinking of random things.

Want fancy wedding. Imagine getting married a second time and still having done nothing that I want to…

I’m ok with it. But sometimes I wish I could have fun and enjoy. Be dressed up for a few days. Have people obsessing over me. Being the centre of attention. Celebrating. Dancing. Music…

But it comes at a huge cost. Not just financially. Emotionally. Ethically. Even the realisation that even during these functions, noone really cares about you. They simply come to enjoy.

I don’t know what I’m talking about. Guess I just want to dress up.

Mom has been helping the dad, of a 6 month old baby who needs an emergency surgery, to collect money. Via her friends, milaap, everything. She arranged a few lakhs. They needed 20 I think. It’s worked out anyway.
Another ex colleague of hers is suffering from anxiety. It sucks. I know… And she is talking about how I used to have panic attacks and how I’ve overcome it to just being anxiety.
Dad reached out to understand BPD, how is it different from bipolar, how I manage both, etc. I thought he wanted to know. Turns out his friend’s husband has. So he finally just asked if he can connect that friend to me

Everything is always about everyone else. Activist assholes.

They have no time or energy or mind space or interest when it comes to me.

After I told them about my sexual abuse since 6, they’ve informed every family they know about how to be careful about their daughters, what happened to me, etc.

EXCEPT taking the effort to be there for me.

And somehow I’m the one who eats medicines and gets therapy!!!
How does this make any sense!


And today is the day I realised I have noone.

A family that doesn’t care.

Thinks that my bipolar is more of an inconvenience and an excuse for them to get sympathy from others.

Thinks that my ex R is better since they have to do nothing. My current guy might not be capable enough to support me when needed, then what?

Thinks that I’m the way I am coz I’ve never had to really be down in the dumps and fend for myself. Desperate enough to snap out and get my act in place.

Thinks that my sexual abuse since childhood by family, by the person I trusted the most, the physical abuse in my relationships, the abortion and death of my pet and my best friend all on the same day… Are all things everyone goes through. Just that noone makes a big deal of it.

Thinks that bipolar, BPD, DID and anxiety are just terms. Everyone feels all these things.

And… A partner who wants to be there for me, or so I think, but isn’t capable. 😦

I have noone. I have R. Always, hopefully.