"No, not Nikitha"

I’m in Bangalore since 59 days now. Apart from misspelling my name, this city makes sure I don’t feel home-sick with lame auto-drivers and cheesy loafers on the streets, your opinion might differ from mine, but do I sound like I care? No. I don’t hate this city, but I do not like it either, yet. This post isn't about the insignificant details of my life, or probably is. Whatever. I’ve always been bad with changes, I fail to adapt to them, when I came here, my physical psychological stability was so fucked that I failed every attempt to write, any shit, I tried each day, and failed, nothing is more frustrating. I had no clue what it takes to live alone in a completely new city, I did not understand what shit bus conductors or auto-drivers spoke, and felt like an alien, did stupid things, got shit scared, cried when alone and repeated the same. I did not acknowledge the change, it was beyond me. People are different here, I’m used to Delhi’s bling culture, I’m used to the noise, the rush, the speed, everything here looked calm, everybody moving at their own comfortable pace, there isn’t any madness here. In Delhi, there was a familiarity even in the unknown faces, I could hate them, relate to them, here I can’t. It’s too early to talk about people here, but I know it’s not the same.  I’ve always wanted to move out and see the world outside my cocoon, I always wanted a freedom, emotional, financial, physical. Coming to Bangalore wasn’t only about a lame job, it was a part of a bigger plan. Freedom. I wanted to let go of my inhibitions, my fears, I wanted to come out of my comfort zone and face the world head on, with no one to cushion my every fall. I wanted to fall and stand up on my own, I wanted an emotional independence. I dream of a life that I live on my own terms answering nobody, owing apologies to nobody, a life that I can live with my head held high, where I decide what is black or white, rational or irrational, a life which gives me the strength for emotional independence. I came here with all these thoughts in my head, but little did I know that freedom is a myth, you detach yourself from something and become a slave to another, it’s like Heisenberg’s uncertainty but fuck it. I’ve realised, freedom is farce, you set yourself free and after sometime you’re trapped in your own definitions, in your own boundaries. So yes, growing up is a bitch, I can’t really afford the daily bread and wine without thinking twice, I wish I could go back to my careless existence, fuck up things and still escape it.  I wish I had a soul to relate to, apart from these four walls that confine my thoughts, these walls that hear me in silence, these walls that’ve seen me in my odds. I wish somebody could unwrap these layers of pretence that I burden my soul everyday with. I wish. I wish growing up was easier. I have no clue where I’d be 2 months down the line, but I know one thing’s for sure, there’s no looking back, I have to find the truth that I seek within, I want to work towards attaining happiness that needs no reason, I want to find my self-worth and well, try paying my own bills! I know I'd fall a lot but I hope I rise every time. 

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.