by Adithi Shankar
I’m not going to lie; I thought it was a mere phase in the initial stages, something that I could snap out of if I just willed myself more ardently. I liked being alone, or rather, preferred being alone. Talking to people was a gargantuan task, some kind of effort I felt I did not want to make, and if I was being served with the option of choosing to avoid interaction, then I might as well hold on tight to that. Everyone thought nothing changed, that I was just off color; that I was just, what everyone refers to flippantly these days, ‘PMS-ing’.
Maybe I wanted to believe that as well. It was most definitely more comfortable a cushion to fall onto than to admit to the brutal reality of things. But in my heart of hearts I knew, I knew that I was speeding past the checkpoints, I was plunging headfirst into unchartered waters with absolutely no control over anything, I was on the highway to nowhere, absent mindedly moving my limbs, a soul disconnected from all yokes that bound her to a material existence.