Metamorphosis

After a very long hiatus, with a final presentation, shifting homes, shifting countries, unsolicited unwanted unasked for hurdles related to the relationship kind and much more, I am here again. to write. Having spent the last few months in my old hometown, where I grew up, I have emotionally decided to call it my home. I have decided to not categorise myself both physically and emotionally as a nomad. The kind that lives out of suitcases. Its simply a little too tough to give up one's way of life, one's palpable thinking is one's identity and that goes onto define the values, the lifestyle, the choices that you make. So here I am at the crossroads, between the road less travelled and the one that assures you goodwill and fortune. Not that I do not want the latter, but the former keeps you in your element I suppose. Thus to reduce the harshness of what reality has to offer, I am back on this writing space to write it all out, to et off some steam, so that I can re assure myself that that the road I am about to take may not be as bad as I atrribute it out to be!

Life here is good. I am lucky, if not very lucky. I have everything that I want here. There's shelter, family, friends...everything. And perhaps, its about time I bring out some activities of quality of which binge drinking and facebooking don't qualify. The journey hasn't been all smooth. I've been selfish and then selfless. It depends. Not really acted according to what the situation demanded. But now, I must keep aside my thoughts on Frida, the walks in deep little cobbled streets in Florence, the slopes of Bergamo, the samosa selling pakistanis in Barcelona, my oh so gay friends with who I laughed out loud and drank and ate, and all that. I have to be this other person, who can dream but only secretly. Who can laugh and be merry but only within the crevices of her soul. I need to metamorphise into a woman, cos its time now.