Some things are best left undone, I have done them all. Well, not all, but by my standards I have. Look at it, where did it begin this downfall. True there was hardship way back then, but to be in purgatory is still better than taking the elevator to hell. Certain choices, they kept the elevator going lower and lower.

It all seems to be with the end of the exchange year. There, I learned to drink, coming back I perfected the art. Like all great artists, I lost myself in it. Not drinking, but the art of sorrow. Then too, it is okay. There was desperation to leave that place, when did I resign myself to it?

Then there was the girl. Waited many moons to meet her only for it to fall apart. It was a three day trip, originally meant to be spent in a hedonistic fervour with the girl but were instead spent wandering, drinking on the streets of an unknown city. Yes, I had come for lust, gripped by its novelty. I spent each day in a different hotel, making my way up to the airport. I hated Bangalore then- it is ironic I trapped myself here. Sure, it has become a liveable relationship, but so is Stockholm Syndrome. Let me not complain.

The last night, I smoked my first cigarette, drank my first Bacardi Plus, and lamented over the girl for the first time sitting on the pavement in the dark. It was the beginning of a vicious partnership with the three parties. I would do this often.

Then I left for Musoorie. I began to find shelter in my tragedy. In the hostel in Bangalore I saw weed crushed on the bed underneath mine- that night I left the hostel. I wonder what the reason was, was it morality? If it was, this would be the last act. With grief as an excuse, I would throw it all out.

In Mussoorie I learned to smoke weed. I ahd tried it before, but there was company, trusted company. Anything you do, the intent matters. If you are smoking multiple times a day with strangers who are fine with your young age, then something is a bit off. Looking back at it, it was a beautiful place full of people in their ugliest moments- or is it just me?

I kept on smoking much past the honeymoon phase. One day I would faint, hit my head on the ground, covered in vomit. I told myself ‘Hey, at least you know your limits’. Strange things we tell ourselves to justify strange deeds. I felt threatened often, those around me seemed exploitative, but where had I to go? How could I go home? The months between here and exchange had been excruciating, with the girl as my only vacation worth having. That too was taken away, there was a boyfriend yet I went. I was not with family, there too various troubles brewed. I ran away.

In Mussoorie I learned to be an addict. Yes, there were sorrows but here is when I chose to run away it would seem. Beyond this, alone in a palatial home full of pain. There were great parties, like the ones at the club where people go to forget their sorrow. Except, my home had become the club. I lived in it.

Poor diet, nights on the couch, porn got worse. Where else does one get the same quick affection if not women on the internet? The mechanism is exactly like that of when a man would visit a prostitute for comfort- only here the prostitute is not even real, and there’s always another one. A better one. So you jump like a damn monkey, caught in this cycle of looking for the best hit.

A heavy heart.

I ran man. What can I say? I ran, like a coward. I knew no other way. It felt so alone. Even now, this grief I carry comes out. I lost my mind, my favourite thing. I lost all that mattered, my drive, my goodness and my innocence. You may say all lose innocence. The natural mechanism for innocence lost is that you gain something in return- such as experience to deal with the world. Here, there is nothing. There is a difference between you losing your innocence for maturity, having the innocence taken away, and voluntarily handing it over.

I pulled myself into this world of hurt. Why? I do not know. I do not care. I am here now.

As addiction grew, anxiety and depression did too. Insecurity, anger and aggression. Fetish and pursuit. Still, there was hope. It came in form of good friends and teachers. Then this was lost too. Friends moved away, teachers left and I had to choose a college. Screwed it. Went to the wrong choice then dropped out, only to cower away from the right one. By now, the girl was in my life. Why hold on to someone who caused you pain? I don’t know chief. At this point, I can’t cite ‘Oh but she is a good person.’ She may be good, but is she good for you? Is she worth throwing it all away- yes. She was.

She was everything I wanted. Whether that want was based in just desire or addiction I know not. Yet, I dropped out with conviction. It was the first time I acted out, truly. The first time I chose to see what the unknown brings.

It brought hell. My God, it did. It brought more pain and addiction, but I fought through. You see, any choice you make you can find peace. However, to do so you must let go. To let go you need a clear mind, and mine was refusing to clear out. Multiple reasons, but a great one was porn addiction.

I do believe life would have been different, I never say this in respect of the current moment, but respectfully, it would have been better, had I never touched porn. Alcohol and smoking- that’s fine. It is still understood, and eventually I would have been found out. Porn, no chance. I’d sit in the backseat during family trips to watch it. I would desperately download videos as we wound through valleys, multiple videos to keep the ‘perfect hit’ searching brain occupied.

I watched deplorable things. I expected reality to reflect it. I could not look people in the eye. It became a ritual for sleep.

It hurts, that I never knew. I cannot believe that I had such an infection. I could feel the symptoms, but I could not diagnose it. This is scary- how do you fight an enemy you cannot see?

Well, it left me with baggage. Anger at the girl whom I considered the beginning of lust, is misplaced. Porn was there before her. This was a chance to make it real, but fate kept slamming the door. Like most men who objectify women from porn, I did not treat fate with respect. I broke the door down. I am sorry fate.

That’s what it is in a way no? Symbolically, fate/nature/chaos/feminine all are screwed over by porn. Sex is the most natural thing. Do any other drug, you can still have sex. People enjoy sex on cocaine, LSD, and alcohol. Porn is perhaps the only drug that strips you even of that natural thing. There is nothing human left about the man who is addicted to porn. He wishes for certainty each moment and loses his ability to deal with chaos, with women.

Deal with this disease. This will be the worst thing in the world, by a great margin.

Back to my story, that’s what happened. I guess, it all got so much I broke. Each factor was negative- a beautiful past I cannot go back to, an invisible future covered by a painful present, a noisy home, fighting parents, a brother fighting his own battles, a far away school, new people, a girl whom I could never have, an ill-formed relationship, complete freedom and money to drink and smoke, and a long standing porn addiction.

Honestly, it may be an unrealized miracle that I am here, with my mind intact and desire to do good slowly returning. So close I came, it scares me. Redemption.