It is difficult to move on, very tough if love started with listening to Lorde’s Royals driving up and down HKV ('13). I miss you, your being, around me. I miss those crazy nights in Delhi – listening to Babel, to Royals, to Counting Stars, to Joelene - our story is nothing short of a love story. It was not romance, or puppy love, it was beyond that. It was deep friendship that at that point was as selfless as it comes. You gave me music, I used to listen to you – get bothered about things we couldn’t change. I tried to make my ways work around you. I tried – I am still trying – to put words to what it is that I feel for you. I write to you from this small obscure, yet sheepishly expensive town on the border of Kerala and Tamil Nadu. It’s a lovely neighbourhood where I live. It’s a small quintessential Tamil Nadu town, Coimbatore. I went out with a colleague’s family to drink.

I feel like a balloon full of cold water. Holding itself by tenterhooks. Just swaying in the present. Without you in my life I feel like I could burst anytime. Every trip taken by myself in this town takes me farther into the woods of sadness. I feel so detached from my own self. I gobble down ice-creams without much ado. Gorge on chocolates. Eat out almost every meal comes from a shop or an expensive cafe.

Living on tentacles.