Dear Journal,
I just went out with Pawan. His effort was to set me up with his friend Kunal. Well, Kunal is alright. He bought us drinks and food, and I danced a lot after a long time. The only thing that turned me off was that he is into raves.
I've never actually been to a rave. It must be fun, but I'd rather stay away from all the coke. A discotheque after a long time.
The last time I think I went to a disco was with Akshay Gupta, and before that with Mehak, Thomas etc.
It's nice to lay loose and not care about what people think. However, I looked in the mirror in the lift and at home wondering what I must've looked like.
For a girl who cares about what she looked like I don't keep so well.
Of course, Ma and Pa were on my mind throughout and as I danced I imagined what it would be like to have a wedding party in a discotheque like this. Me and my wild imagination.
Dhawale said I have a drug-induced condition. I have been extremely imaginative ever since I can remember. A childhood trait that lives on.
I also realised that meltdowns like what I had yesterday can be avoided if we face reality squarely. Head on.
This journal is one way to face reality. An honest raconting of everything.
I love my parents. They are my very heart beat. My kaleje ka tukda.
I'm grateful for friends like Pawan, Shanky, Nagesh.
I'm grateful for my parents.
I'm grateful for my brother.
I'm grateful for my phone.
I'm grateful for my thoughts boring as they may be.
I'm grateful for Stephen King's guidance.
I'm grateful that I write this journal.
I'm grateful for my phone.
I'm grateful for all the food I ate at Lord of the Drinks.
I'm grateful that I danced.
I'm grateful to Kunal for paying for the beer and food.
I'm grateful for my intuition that surprises me by coming true.
I'm grateful that I write on thin air with my fingers.
I'm grateful for air.
I'm grateful for my good health.
I'm grateful for my face and body.
Goodnight, shabbakhair.
Love,
Me.
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