For all my whining and existential angst, I'm not really unhappy here. No, really, I'm not. I revel in the anonymity that this city gives me, I like not bumping into known faces at every corner, I like the fact that I can order in Kababs at midnight. I have also decided that I love winter in this city. The bright colours, the morning misty breath, the need to wear three layers well into February gives me a high unlike any other. I like the independence. I bitch about my hardships, but there's a rather large bit of me that likes paying my own bills, cooking my own meals, deciding that I want momos for dinner today. I like coming home, fixing myself a stiff drink, and reading the newspaper. Knowing that, if push comes to shove, I can muddle along without anyone's help has calmed that part of my psyche which goes by the name of Marvin: The Paranoid Android. There are days I feel like shit, there are days I feel on top of the world. But at the back of my mind, I always know that there is no one else to blame for the shittiness.
Maybe this is what it feels like to be a grown-up, and I'm not half-bad at it.
Also? In case anyone was wondering, amar autobiographyr naam debo Noshto Meyer Upakhyan. Just so you know.