Timetravellersillness

Amma called today. We don’t always see eye to eye, but I will always appreciate that she tells me the truth. She told me that I seem very negative – I’ve had a string of good news, or at least movement in things I’ve poured a lot of time and work into, but I don’t seem happy about it at all. “It’s the pressure,” I tell her. “I never thought I would actually get it.” “But you did! Can’t you…

I spent some time walking in the park. It felt lonely, but also somehow soothing. I have been searching for a bit of silence lately, and I find myself irritated by the constant buzz of people around me. It is good for me, I know. But sometimes I just want to sit in this room and think a bit more. Ruminate. Later, I said goodbye to my parents. I watched their silhouettes fade away and tried to…

Things i do not want to forget but probably will;from the past few days 1. amma holding my hand through the fever, like i was small again. 2. the particular joy of receiving a call from somewhere far away, right when the day had begun to feel too much like itself. 3.achacha’s voice on call, breaking a little when he said the house feels quiet now 4. sunlight falling on the floor in a way that…

There is a version of me that existed before this. She moved through the world assuming continuity. She believed that when something difficult happened, it would take its place in the story and then recede. The worst is over. That is the consensus. Yet I remain somewhere inside that night. When the call came, his voice was steady, almost detached. I remember staring at a thin crack in the white…

He would break my heart a little every day.Distance has made this easier to see. I think about the girl who begged him to stay. I think about the girl who believed he might. Sometimes I think the kindest thing he ever did was let me go. And the kindest thing I can do now is not try to undo it. Somewhere in the world, a girl like me is waiting. She misses him—the shape he gave to her days. She…

You do not have to be good.You do not have to walk on your kneesFor a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.You only have to let the soft animal of your bodylove what it loves.Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.Meanwhile the world goes on.Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rainare moving across the landscapes,over the prairies and the deep trees,the mountains…

Maybe if I did something—anything—besides sit here, cradling my failures, maybe then I would feel something that resembles peace. Maybe then, I would believe that there is, somewhere, a way out. They tell me, “This too shall pass,” as if these words are some kind of balm. But for it to pass, it must first be endured.  I must make it through and nowadays, most days, everyday, I feel more and more…

Hi Been thinking a lot lately about a lot of things. Mostly about the kind of person I want to be and all that. I got your email—thank you. It’s taken me a while to heal from everything that happened. Not all of that is on you. I handled it badly by trying to do it alone and I’ve spent the last two years trying to pick up the pieces and patch myself back up- it’s very messy. I look back nowadays…

I distract myself. I reach out to old friends. I make plans. I work. I do anything and everything to make sure I don’t have a second to think. But it’s the mornings and it’s the evenings when everyone’s settled and there are no distractions. And it’s today, and it’s now. I know I’m being irrational. I know all these thoughts are probably not true. But I didn’t get the chance to clear the air. So…

I listened to a podcast about how creating space for joy can build resilience. I like that idea. It’s a conscious effort, at the end of each day, to look for the small things that made you happy. Likely, even on the bad days, those small joys will still be there. Or, if they’re not there, the idea is you’ll be an expert at finding joy in the smallest places that bad days won’t just be blanket bad…

i call amma sitting in my car in the middle of summer. The sun is scorching. I’ve just booked my first interview. It makes me so nervous i want to throw up. The moments before the call i gave myself a pep talk – “your life doesn’t change if you don’t get in. who cares?”. The phone call feels flat. Everything feels this way these days. Dramas, chocolates, spending time with friends, it all feels…

I don’t know how to write about love except that it smells like soap, and it’s soft, and it makes me believe in impossible things, and it makes daydreams seem dull. And the world takes on a different color, a special hue, one that seems reserved for you. And words always seem to fail to describe exactly this feeling that simmers inside me. And it’s so warm that I never feel cold when I’m with…

This was a real email. I ended up only sending part of it and I’ve taken out the bits I feel are too personal for the other side of this story. So maybe it won’t read very well but I come back to this email a lot. It reminds me of where I went wrong and it reminds me of where I get my fear of love from. All our emails have been you sharing things (admirably and bravely) and me offering my support…

The thing about achacha is, he really cares. He’ll pick up on something small you said one day and ask you about it weeks later to make sure you’re okay. He’ll take you to tennis, to badminton, for runs. He’ll wake you up by singing or dancing or anything joyful. He has this gentle way of giving advice. It’s not pushy or judgmental or unkind rather it comes across as a simple observation, and a…

Papa calls me the peacemaker of the family. My job has always been to mediate. I used to enjoy it—I felt a sense of fulfillment—but as I got older, it felt heavier. Not exactly like a burden; I never want to perceive it that way, but maybe more like a weight. Maybe they’re exactly the same thing. I don’t know. I realized too late that being a mediator also means being the keeper of secrets. I…