250 Mercer Street

I pushed myself out the door of the cab and I heard her say 'sorry, I got to rush'. I am not surprised, in fact, I have come to terms with what's happening to me. I resigned and continued talking to Pierre and amidst all this I found a little tiny window in me to tear down. At this point I am beyond - 'How can this happen to me', well this has been happening to me since a week, if I don't get used to this, it's my fault.

I got down without a clue of where I was, I could sense tension in his voice too. He knew I was lost. He insisted on explaining the route to the driver but she couldn't afford to waste a minute more on this. It was an after-rain weather, the grass was wet and there I was, at 250 Mercer Street. I broke down. I failed at it again, I tried everything possible for this not to happen. EVERYTHING POSSIBLE.

It still did and I am more shocked than angry and for the first time I felt as if this mishap was forced upon me. It left me helpless and abandoned literally.

The fact that an almost stranger and an almost nobody was everything to me at that point of time spoke volumes to me from myself. I called him 4 times within the 5 min span in which he could reach me and the fact that he was worried about me turned out to be the most magical and comforting thing I felt in a long long long long time. While I had/have a million reasons to curse everything around me, I had/have one reason to be thankful about and that's him.

While sometimes I categorize my problems as 'fancy painful' , the way they hurt and break me, I wonder if I even have the balls to face real ones. The fact that my earned moments are nothing like how I thought they would be and that they are growing exponentially worse each day creates a lump in my throat and leaves me broke inside. I don't see things getting better anytime soon and I am not really sure where this is leading to and why.

If I am paying for my Karma I must have done something horribly wrong. What happened today shook the innermost me.

The wrath

The worst wrath of an enemy to me would be hurling me into a situation or more imaginatively a quicksand wherein I have to, just have to 'depend' on someone. Even as I typed that sentence I had a disgusted (of myself) face. The fact that I have to depend on someone for anything makes me sick to my stomach. In my quest for being absofuckinglutely independent for life I end up depending on people in a range of capacity. I do fall in love with few people along the way but I end up hating myself a little more each time.

I am in the verge of being temporarily financially independent in a very reasonable way but these few testing times few weeks before things hopefully materialize have slammed my face into the wall and choked the pipes inside my body making me bruised and bleed emotionally. The chronology of things that surfaced are so bitter that calling them bitter-sweet is no longer justified. It's mere pain in the most honest sense possible. I have a lump in my throat as I write.

I do believe this is so testing that it's keeping me or rather bitterly pushing me away from the appreciation I must hold of what I have or what I have earned. I know if I describe the magnitude of dependency involved in the narration, one would comfortably disregard my concern to be petty, however in my defence if you are me this is the literal equivalent of being punched in the stomach to hurt your innermost self.

The point is I will always be pushed to the wall by circumstances where I have to seek help/ wait for someone/worst yield to someone.I can/will NEVER come to terms with it and I know it and more honestly I owe that dignity to myself.