Enthusiasm. None.

Program. None.

Cramps? They never returned since the email.

Reluctance to stay home. Aplenty.

Cocco Latte, it shall be.

Booze. Minimal amount. Sips of beer, one big sip of whiskey.

Enough for me to feel light-headed, lose my footings, flushed and sleepy. It takes almost nothing to knock me out.

At least, I don’t feel that heavy weight, dragging me down.

Fags. Made up 2 sticks, at least.

Enough for me to feel light-headed, with the sandy texture irritating my throat.

At least, I could kick-start my respiratory system, and start breathing, again.

Music. Booming, R & B.

Enough for my pounding head to drum to the beats.

At least, it wasn’t the quietness I didn’t want myself to be in.

Dance. Clumsy footings with unsightly bulging tummy.

Enough to cause that thigh muscle to cramp, halfway. Repulsive sight to those around.

At least, I tried to exhaust myself so that the physical fatigue would outweigh the mental one.

Entertainment. What entertainment?

My mind wasn’t there.

Friends. Not much. Perhaps only 2 or 3 of those whom I had really wanted to see.

(Yeah, sod the tummy. And yeah, I know it wasn’t a Deepavali event, but Halloween, but I am too broke to be pumping in money to dress up)

Enough for me to want to be there.

At least, my sanity would be sustained with them around. Somewhat.

Inadequacies. Aplenty.

Enough for me to want to leave before lights came on.

At least, I survived through the night.

Tears. Quite a bit. I did want to tame them. I couldn’t fight them. In the dark, they just…. ran wild.

Enough for a couple to realise I was unwell if they stared hard enough.

At least, I kept a smile on my face throughout. Or at least, a straight face, except for the smudged eye makeup and the glittery tears, which betrayed my emotions.

Supper. Not much appetite. I just needed a drink to quench the thirst.

Enough to make my tummy bulge out. No midriffs in the future, mental note to self. Enough to feel guilt.

Enough to daunt the ego, after bumping into SBB’s friend there. His jibes are always swift and precise. But, seriously, I know he meant no harm, and actually made me laugh.

At least, banana and cheese prata perked me up. At least, my Bollywood lover stroke my ego by yearning for my attention.

Erm, a tad too much.

At least, VampTreSS and Jeff were concerned. They even told SBB’s friend to save the jibes till another day. Any day, but today. It wouldn’t make any difference, really.

Money. Dwindling. Running out.

Enough to declare myself a bankrupt.

50 for lunch. 20 for cab fare this noon(cramps). 25 for cab fare this evening. 15 for entrance.

At least, SOME of the above are well-spent.

Cuts. 6.

Enough. Or maybe not.

At least, they made me feel alive, again.

Whee.

Now?

Thunders. Roaring. Increasing. Frequencies and volume.

Enough to make me shiver.

At least…

They make me realise, I still… feel.

Do I?

So cool.

Guess which song is on my MP3 right now? Randomly.

Matchbox Twenty - Unwell
All day staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something

Hold on

Feeling like I’m headed for a breakdown
And I don’t know why

But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be…me

I’m talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
And I know, I know they’ve all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow I’ve lost my mind

Exactly.

Happy birthday, to a dear friend, who is my dearest friend ever.

Though I am not near you, you know that you will always be on my mind.

8 years. That’s how far we gotten.

I miss you, really.