Recluse.

Disclaimer: This is not a plea for attention. 

I’m not a very bright person at all. I’ve often harangued myself with the notion that all my milestones are delayed to an extent. Add to that the social awkwardness from 22 years in the pod and this pea still doesn’t know jack about the world or our lives and the parts we’re all supposed to play.

The past forty eight hours have been rather rollercoaster-y. I’m not prepared to talk about them. What I am ready for however is to dive back into the past, even though I know it’s largely unhealthy and another step in the undulation of the pendulum that leads nowhere. But right now, nowhere seems better than here. Which is why the prodigal son returns to the blogosphere once more, to fuel his narcissism and send strangers on the internet into virtual comas by boring them with incessant details of his pointless existence. Only this time, he shall be trudging along that lonely road which is writing for yourself.



God, he sounds bitter. Here's a picture of a Jharoo in his hand to make up for it.