My madness, the futility of it hit me last evening when everyone from that party were uploading pictures and I wasn’t in a single one of them. It was like I did not exist. Like I hadn’t been a part of that afternoon based solely on the fact that I behaved the way I did. I got drunk, I behaved like a complete idiot, found some random random guy cute because we struck up some vague conversation about the army which also got me sentimental about Dad so I went out and shed a few tears and got back to my conversation with this guy who I’ll probably never meet again. I drank some more mojitos, felt even more out of control and all I wanted was to meet that random cute boy again. The party spilled over to Noon Wines and so did my madness and this time it was in full force. I have such vague memories about that evening and strangely I do not remember my best friend screaming at me. All I remember is that excruciating feeling of wanting to spend some more time with this stupid boy before he headed back home. I spoilt the entire party for that period of time and my reputation is obviously in tatters. I doubt I shall ever be able to meet these same people again until years and years have passed and I am at a more peaceful place in life. These people who never lose control, who lead these perfect lives on paper and these are the very people I wanna be. Yes I do not wanna be this mad, wild thing that I become once in a blue moon when my insecurity is written all over me, when the alcohol gets the better of me.
This madness is me too. This insanity is me too. I can’t deny that. It leaves me feeling ashamed but this is a part of me too. I am told that I need reassurance all the time. Do I? I think you’ll have to come and live in my shoes for you to realize why I do so. Everything seems to be a struggle sometimes. My stammering gets bigger and bigger when I am not feeling good about myself. I hateeeeeeeeeeee it when I stammer. I loathe myself just for the stammer. I wish I wasn’t ever ever afflicted with this. A large part of my insecurity stems from this speech deficiency of mine. And you know what everything cannot be worked upon and sorted out. Everything doesn’t have a cure. Most times one just has to learn how to lump it and live with it. So I live with this stammering even as I am asked question by my so called might be in-laws when they ask me “Beta can this be cured?” They wanna know if I suffered from some childhood trauma that triggered this off and I have no answer to that. I had a very happy childhood and I do not remember any such incident that could have possibly resulted in this speech impediment.
So I take my leave from these people whose standards of propriety I cannot not live upto until the day I do and I will darn well do. I know and then I shall be back fitting into such company effortlessly and holding my own be it personally or professionally.

Hang on, my love, and grow big and strong

Dearest Pri,
Thank you for your gorgeous and charming letter, you brighten up my dim life. I read the whole fucking thing, dear. Of course, I'd love to see you doing fabulously well in life and in immaculate suits walking out of meetings. But most of all I want to see you take a deep breath and do whatever you must to survive and find something to be that you can love. You're obviously a bright fucking chick, with a big heart too and I want to wish you a (advanced) HAPPY HAPPY 28th birthday and happy spirit. It's gonna be a long long road ahead, but pressure never ends in this life. 'Perforation problems' by the way means to me also the holes that will always exist in any story we try to make of our lives. So hang on, my love, and grow big and strong and take your hits and keep going.

All my love to a really beautiful girl, that's you Pri.

God