You know that feeling..when your brain is tired, your soul is tired, and even netflix is tired of trying to find something new for you!? That’s me. Right now. In 4K.

I’ve been in a fog lately. Not the cute, reflective kind. It’s the actual kind that settles over Gurugram’s winter like it owns the place. It’s flavoured generously with PM2.5, broken dreams, and the occasional burning wood chips at night. It’s the kind of air that makes your lungs write passive-aggressive notes and your skin feel like it’s been parched.

Emotionally.. I’m what you would call selectively communicative…Sad? Yes.

Will I tell anyone? Absolutely not.

Because God forbid I burden someone with my feelings. What if it makes them uncomfortable? What if they blink weirdly? What if they say something wildly unhelpful like “you should really meditate or talk to someone”?

So instead, I smile. Ask how they are. Make loud jokes. Change the topic. All while mentally free-falling through 11 over analyzed scenarios and suppressing a scream with the elegance of a woman who owns fancy China.

Meanwhile, I haven’t been to the gym in 1.5 months. My sneakers are now purely decorative. My core is missing. My playlist has gone silent and I have the audacity to act confused about why my clothes don’t fit me anymore.

My friends? Oh, they’re around. Just… deeply booked. Some are bouncing between big fat Indian weddings like it’s a full-time job. Honestly, I’m convinced that’s all they do in the winter time. Others are posting gym selfies, looking shredded while I wonder if brushing my hair counts as movement.

Honestly, I’m thrilled for them. Ecstatic. Sitting at home with my chips and air purifier, radiating nothing but supportive envy.

So here is me, waiting for someone to show up with hot gossip with some extra hot chocolate so all can be well again

Till later!