Anti-Depressant

Sorry. I'm probably killing you all with my talk of depression and failed love-life and what not. Hopefully, this isn't much like that.

Change pt.1
After spending a year in a hostel room with 6 other guys, you change. This is involuntary, and there isn't much of an option to it. You change because for the first time in your life, you're living with 6 other guys in a flat. You change because for the first time in your life, you don't have to go back home every night. And you change, because for the first time in your life you level out on wavelengths and become people who understand each other... No strings attached.
You become a lover. You become a loser. You become sexually frustrated. You become little less of a homophobe. You become a cook. You become a rebel. You become dirtier than ever. You become a college student.
And after one year, they tell you to leave that all behind in an existence enclosed by the 4 walls of liberation, in a place we call home; Room 2.
So we said our byes, we vandalised our cupboards and we left an important mark on the stage in life that changed us all the most... That first year of college life.

Chicken Runs and the Globalisation of the Mallu Man
It could've been the hunger, it could've been the cluelessness, but something that day made me get up from my not-so-comfortable semi-sleeper chair and walk out to the middle of nowhere and order a chicken biryani. I emphasise again... this was in the middle of nowhere. Not the usual place where chickens mingled and were happy to get slaughtered. This was the kind of place where the only chicken present was the guy who took my order. Within five minutes (not even close to how long it should ideally take to cook food like this) I got a plate of some foul smelling gravy atop rice which came in as many colours as the colour wheel I painted last semester.
Well, you're in a complete vegetarian campus... You tend to get withdrawal symptoms and you begin craving meat like anything. But was it really smart eating this crap somewhere between Pune and Bangalore?
Ugh. The rest of the ride was queasy and it was very unpleasant. I knew that when I got back home it was a matter of time before the chicken runs would get to me. They didn't, thankfully.

There was something I found rather amusing when I woke up on the bus in the middle of the night. There was a Mallu man in front of me with a far-eastern girlfriend/wife/mistress/hoe sitting next to him. They kept taking swags out of a bottle from a brown paper bag and were acting a bit too much in love for anyone else's comfort. While he groped her from the back, she kissed him on the chest and while she bit his ear, he still groped her. Quite disgusting. This wasn't the 'semi-sleeper' I was expecting.
What a stud.
Only later did I find out that the ever-so-intriguing alcohol bottle in the brown paper bag was actually a cranberry breezer.
What a fag.

Change pt.2
You generally try to obliterate these things and live in a state of denial about it all. But the hard truth is that people always change whether you like it or not. Is it me or everyone else? I doubt I'll ever have the answer to that... Thing is that whoever it is, you've noticed a lot of difference in everyone since the last time you met them.
It's a strange thing to balance, 'cause with one set of people, you've established a certain type of comfort with, one that is open, one where you aren't bothered about being judged and the other set of people (and all its subsets) is one where you heed the words you say 'cause a million things could go wrong in an instant. And honestly, there's no preference between the former and latter but you're always in a cloud of dilemma about this and it bogs you down.
Blabber.

Love Hurts
So ignore the first line of the post.
You're back. Back to the place it all began. And you're still caught between those pillars of stone that will never break, that will not even crack for you and release you from the chains that always seem to tie you down to the surface of pain. Over and over again.
Imagine this. A tornado of love. And you're at the eye of the storm watching everything pass by you like it's all so blissful. You know it's the last thing you want to get into. You know it's the last thing you will get into. But you're just watching it all and it makes you nauseous.
Exit before you get yourself killed, fool.

It's getting harder to post these days. Going from a stage where noone really understands what you mean through your writing to something that's now a little easier to comprehend? I have to be more careful with what I write, that's all. Haha.

Quietly, I make my exit.

Ignite and Walk Away
A one month break should help, I say. I'm heading off to the UK to see that fat excuse of a brother and other related uncles and aunties and cousins. The aformentioned brother seems to be all settled and chilled in life, even with dangerously close prospects of marriage with his current girlfriend. Change. This is the best example anyone could give you.
So 3 weeks in UK, going places, eating good meat, maybe getting drunk once or twice (coz that's what I do these days) and a week in Sweden should be brilliant fun. I'm going to enjoy myself... Because after a month, I'll be coming back to soberness and coming back to reality. Which is never a nice thing when you prefer floating in space.

Let's float in space together