Reflections of a restless eccentric

Another one of my paranoid lines of thought, while I adapt to being married:) I do not know how to handle these emotions. Dependence scares me; the feeling of missing someone is terrifying. I watch you leave, and it is a struggle to be nonchalant about it. But I persist, because if not nonchalance, what would be the alternative? An emotional outburst? I abhor the very thought of it. And yet, there is so much I want to say before you leave. Will every time be like this? I wonder. I do not want to feel any of this, much less acknowledge it or give it a voice. But denial is only a facade. It eventually peels away, exposing vulnerability. I am scared that love will turn into a chain that binds me all too tightly to you, wounding me every time you step away. I fear that I will get too used to your presence to live happily in your absence. The adrenaline of the lows and highs are too tumultuous for me to accept, it is equanimity that I relish and cherish. This person I am turning into, t

You find me here, hunched down in front of my laptop, on my old bed in my old room. For two and  a half months I have missed this place. This bed. This room. The walls. Anything you name in this 2000 odd square feet, I will vouch that I have missed it sorely. Maybe even the road outside. The tress that rise tall from the ground and bow down gracefully from above, forming a cool canopy of calm shade. The sight of all those random people on morning walks and jogs. The myriad shops that bustle with customers in the evening. I don't think I would miss any of these individually. But combined, they form a part of my former habitat. They amalgamate beautifully into that feeling of home and warmth and love. After spending close to two decades in a place, it is anything but easy to suddenly dissociate from it. My roots are still here, and I feel homesick oftentimes. I will not apologize for that, nor will I justify by trying to delve into the whys of it. It is what it is. The journey to

On a Friday morning, I woke up at 5, got ready, gobbled breakfast and opened up my laptop. I had signed up for a music recital, which was scheduled for 6am. In keeping with modern times, this one was going to be a virtual hangout with a bunch of people singing on video conference.I had practised as much as I could, but that was still less compared to where I wanted to be. I steeled myself for this experience, because it was going to be humbling on many levels. Even so, I had no idea of what awaited me. To give the reader a little background, I had signed up for an online music class and have been learning for a few months now. One reason I hadn't signed up for an actual class was that I didn't want to face the reality of kids under 10 singing better than I ever could. This online class was a blessing: with a batch size of one, I only ever had to face my teacher, and I was content in this virtual bubble. The problem is this: I find it extremely difficult to manage the assig