Dear diary

 

I spent the day with my parents and my dog. I ate very little and very normal food. I did not talk to or meet anyone special. I did not listen to my favourite songs and did not watch my favourite movies. It was quite an uninteresting day, but I didn't mind it very much. I noticed the green in the trees more, listened ardently to people walking by, I even tried my best to throw in a joke or two every once in a while.

The day was far from ideal, but let me walk you through it, since there isn’t much else to do. I assembled a couple of chairs and a makeshift wardrobe for my parents, which mostly felt good but also served as a grim reminder of how weak and scrawny my hands had become, nevertheless I finished it successfully and now a wonky wardrobe stands proudly where there once used to be space to move around. I dropped some curry on the new sofa but luckily it's in a place my mother will hopefully take a few days to find out, the curry was no good anyway. My dog bit my hand and new my shoes in more places than I can count out of his undying love and affection, and I reminded my parents to get a name tag for him- I feel like dogs look rather naked without a proper collar with a name tag.

In more regrettable news, I might have had a small breakdown in front of the folks, maybe on account of a feeling of impending doom. I told them they were wrong for bringing me to this place and pleaded with them to take me home. They replied that they’ll do so after this semester of college ends and inquired if the source of my sadness is that I miss my friends. I envy the linearity in their thoughts. Maybe I am in the wrong for complicating my feelings and consequently my life. I replied no and I buried the discussion, there was nothing to gain here. My mother also told me not to do anything out of anger or resentment I may hold towards them. I said I don’t hold any such feelings towards them, which is quite true, my feelings are perfectly neutral towards them and I don’t blame them for anything. Some have had worse parents and a better life while some have had better parents and a worse life; who am I to hold anything against them? My pains, just like the rest of my personality, is mostly independent of my upbringing, which was rather nice. Maybe they didn’t quite understand why isolating me from everything I cared about when I’m at my lowest was detrimental for me, but there’s a lot of things I don’t understand either, who’s to say who’s right, besides I never really took the pain to explain things, which is on me completely.

I washed my face, kissed my dog, and gave my mother a gentle goodbye as my father drove me back to my college. I wondered if I should ask him something, like “are you happy?” or “have you ever been in love?”. We never shared a relationship to talk about such things but I figured I didn’t have much to lose today. I did not go through with these thoughts, and the car ride was quite silent apart from the occasional bad joke. We reached, I gave my father the same goodbye I had given my mother, and I walked back to my room. 

I truly hate this room. I’ve spent almost a month in here and have stayed indoors for 90% of the month. I cannot stand it any longer. It’s bigger than my old room and I have it to myself. There’s no loud music or useless chatter outside because I share my hostel with the Phd scholars, who either barely come out or never go in, and are mostly closing in on their 30’s. These seemingly attractive features of this room don’t fool me, I can smell the evil in these walls. The demonic screeching of the fan, the chair with no arms and no soul, this door that only unlocks when it sees fit, this bed that makes me sink through till I’m as stiff and lifeless as the ply that holds it. I take back what I said about me not blaming anyone; I blame this room. It is making me insane. And unlike the usual people who go insane, I see it, but I cannot do anything about it. It is the room’s cruel humour. I know it.

I do hate being unironically cranky. I always wished I were the sort of person who could keep his humour till the end, but I’m afraid I’ve been a rather morose companion to the few I’ve been near the past few weeks. I’m truly sorry for this. I’ll try to do better.