Having guests in the house is always nice, but at the same time I, being the negative fatalist that I am, always dread the last day of the visit, where the goodbyes are said. Primarily of course because it's sad in itself, but also because it makes me go into deep introspective philosophizing - like now. Alright, I'll try to go easy on you, gentle reader.

The goodbyes invariably make me wonder what in God's name I am doing here. The feeling of isolation is ever-present, plus the distinct belief that I am stuck in the middle of nowhere. I certainly don't think I fit in here; it has gotten better, admittedly, the past few years, but I still feel like an outsider in this society. The vastly different ideologies are the worst part - the clash is sometimes too hard to bear! It is hard to explain some manifestations of a different cultural upbringing, especially when it seems like I'm hiding behind some lame excuse. I don't know, perhaps in part I am? I wonder if I believe myself sometimes.

Yet at the same time, surely I am too much of an outsider in my own society now, having being spoilt by western luxuries and what have you. I probably treat India as some kind of paradoxical flawed utopia in my mind, a typical escapist fantasy. Then again, it is possible I'm being too cynical. Here I go again, covering all bases..Anyway, the heart of the matter is, I don't know, I'm an outsider in both worlds, and I probably will never fit in anywhere.

Sigh, now all I need is some teen-angst ridden suicide poem, say what?