Summer in Madras, and half a dozen other reasons to feel suicidal:
1. Rooney's broken his foot.
2. Chelsea's top of the League again.
3. I've got to pack up and move, which is quite a pain. And I have very, very mixed feelings about moving back to Bangalore.
4. Have hit rock bottom on enthusiasm/ cheerfulness/ optimism levels, and am quite convinced that life is f*ked up beyond redemption. And, yes, I'm aware of the meaning of the term 'beyond redemption'.
5. Writing is just not working. Not as an experiment. Not as a diversion. Not as anything.
6. Del died.
I realise that this is a staggeringly negative post. But that's just how I feel. I'm tired of being chipper and up and positive, when I feel like everything that's important to me is all over the goddamned place. And I don't see why I should pretend to be alright with my life, when I'm so clearly not.
Since I'm the world leader in kidding myself, perhaps I need to take a much-needed break and just stop. Stop ignoring stuff that gets to me. Stop being selective about reality. Stop sitting in my corner and waiting for things to get better.
I hate the idea of moving back to Bangalore. And I'm so, so tired of waiting for things to change.
There are just so many books to read, so many football matches to watch, so many things to throw yourself into. Can't do this self-distraction 24/ 7 any longer. It just takes too much out of me.
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1 comment:
ouch. hang in there, will u? u really sound like u need a long holiday in the sun, far far away from the madding crowd... can't say i'm surprised tho, this has been brewing for a bit.
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