One year later.

I can't believe it has been a whole year.

I've always been one to resist change of any kind. I'm rather terrified of anything to do with it, to be honest. Small changes are somewhat manageable; it's always the more important ones that cause my mind to fall to pieces. That being said, moving last year came as a huge shock to me. The very thought of leaving practically my whole life behind, and start afresh in an alien place seemed abhorrent, inhuman and cruel. I surprised myself, though, by taking it way better than I had thought I would. True, there were those moments when all I wanted to do was pack my bags and go back home. (It's rather funny how I still refer to Bombay as 'home'. People never lose the opportunity to bring this discrepancy to my attention.) But for the most part, I managed to pull through. In spite of hitting numerous obstacles along the way.

It has not been an easy year for me at all. I used to be adept at shrugging off stress, but I'm afraid this no longer holds true. Stress has turned my brain into a disorderly, chaotic mess. My mind is perpetually filled with myriad emotions, ranging from joy to sorrow and everything else in between. And there's the issue of worry. Worrying thoughts reside in my brain like parasitic worms; consuming me bit by bit, and eventually destroying me. School, assignments, exams, university. These four words play over and over in my head in an endless loop; like a broken record that nobody cares to turn off. My mind has become like a busy road junction; where things come to a complete standstill if even one such shadow of a thought refuses to move on its way. This often keeps me awake till the wee hours of the night; contemplating, analyzing, reflecting upon every minute detail, until the last vestige of energy left in my being is consumed, and my brain drifts off to sleep.

Much as I'd like to say that I've learned something worthwhile over the past year, I cannot. I assure you that I haven't. I still continue to make the same mistakes; still continue to expect the same things from life, in spite of knowing  very well that the odds of me actually getting them are very slim. Experience is supposed to be the best teacher, but I simply don't seem to learn.

And then there's you. You're nothing less than an infectious disease, slowly consuming every cell of my brain, and you need to be eradicated from every single chamber of my mind for good. You need to be shattered into a thousand pieces so that each piece may gather dust in its coffin in some remote corner of the world. So that I can stop lingering on old memories and indulging in wishful thinking. So that I never repeat the mistakes I made.

This is what I seem to have become, one year later. When will I ever learn?