Last night, the cigarette burned like my soul Slowly and in vain. That slow burn that used to give peace- it’s killing me now. The made-up love that once was peace- is now the torment my heart can no longer take. Half-breaths and half-alive but never half in love. Never the person with one foot out the door- when in love. Burning. I’m burning in vain and killing myself- slowly. Do they see me burn? Do they see me burn? Do they? Do you? Do you see my agony? An ivy wrapping my throat- choking me to death. Much like your love. Or are you blind to my greys still? Should I’ve been more obvious with my love? Or did I stifle you with my intensity? Is that too many questions? My mind keeps going down the spiral- do you see me ruin myself in the hopes of your love?
There was a rush when he looked at me. A spark, a flicker—something that felt infinite, even when it barely knew how to begin. But first love isn’t always gentle, and it certainly isn’t always right. Mine was neither. I thought it was everything, because back then, I didn’t know love could be more.
Still, I stayed. Not because it was beautiful, but because I was afraid.
Every time it felt like he might leave, my mind whispered: If not him, then who?
That question tethered me to a story long after the plot had unraveled. It made me trade peace for presence. It convinced me that if I lost him, I’d never find love again. So I stayed—for six years—until one day I realised I had outgrown the girl who first asked that question.
The Second Time
Then came my second.
My favourite almost.
We were everything in slow motion. The kind of love that unspooled gently, like a Sunday morning in a city you’re learning to love. We had a rhythm, a potential, a softness that felt safe. But “almost” is a word that quietly breaks you. It tricks you into believing that “one day” will come—until it doesn’t.
We almost made love stay. We almost had our shared playlists, our traditions, our peace. We almost built something lasting.
“Distance, timing, breakdown, fighting Silence, the train runs off its tracks…” — Sad, Beautiful, Tragic (RED (Taylor’s Version), Taylor Swift)
When it ended, it didn’t break me. Not all at once, at least. It was the kind of ending that settles in gradually, like fog over a city you once called home. There was no betrayal, no grand disaster. Just the quiet knowing that we couldn’t carry on. I was tired—of loving people who didn’t stay. Of waiting for something I couldn’t name. Of wondering why love never felt like enough.
But if you ask me today, I’d still say we were close to something extraordinary. Close, but not close enough.
This Time Might Be Different
Now, maybe my third is here to stay. Maybe he isn’t.
But for the first time, I won’t ask that old question again. If not you, then who?
Because I’ve learned what that question does. It makes you stay longer than you should. It wraps fear in the illusion of loyalty. It makes you believe that love is scarce, when really—it’s abundant.
Love shows up in many forms, in many seasons— Sometimes as a person, sometimes as a mirror. Sometimes as you, choosing yourself after years of forgetting how.
I’ve learned that love isn’t just about who stays the longest. Sometimes, it’s who teaches you how to leave. Sometimes, it’s the quiet promise you make to yourself in the dark— That next time, you’ll choose you first.
Love Is Home
Love, as I’ve come to understand it, isn’t just the butterflies or the longing or the poetry. It’s not even just the safety or the stillness.
Love is how we slowly become ourselves in someone else’s presence. It’s how we learn to rest. How we remember the softness we’d tucked away.
Love is memory, timing, courage. And sometimes, love is the lesson.
And maybe that’s why it blurs so closely into something else—home.
In my last blog, I wrote about home not being a place, but a feeling. And the more I think about it, the more I realise—home and love are the same thing. They evolve. They shift. They slip through your fingers if you’re not paying attention, only to return in unexpected forms.
A city. A friend. A morning spent in silence. Or someone’s laugh echoing through a kitchen full of light.
What a terrifyingly beautiful thing it is to find your home in a person. To find love and belonging wrapped into the same soul.
But even if they don’t stay, the love does. The lesson does. The knowing that you can love again—differently, deeply, more wisely.
And So…
You haven’t met all the people you’ll love. And you haven’t met all the people who will love you.
So chin up, darling. Love might just be around the corner.
And maybe this time—it won’t be tragic. Maybe it’ll just be home.
A week or two ago I was talking to someone over Instagram and said something very mature which I later wrote on my Journal app and posted as a status on WhatsApp. Now before I dive into this blogpost- anyone remembers the Justin Timberlake song “Mirrors”? If you don’t, the following lyrics forms the centre point for this blog-
‘It’s like you’re my mirror
My mirror staring back at me…’
Okay enough of an introduction- let’s dive right in. During the aforementioned Instagram chat we were joking about human behaviour in correlation with one another. For example, you would not talk to your best friend the way you talk to your boss at the office. During such banter, my friend asked me to describe my own behaviour in as few words as possible- and in that very moment I came up with the perfect metaphor to give an answer to this question. I said I consider myself to be a mirror that does not distort the reality out of proportions. I am the mirror that reflects that reality with all its nuances. This is to say that I mimic the person in front or the person I’m having a conversation with. I give as much attention, respect, love, decency, importance etc as I have gotten from you.
For years I have been the person who replied to texts within minutes or picked up a call on the first or third ring depending on my situation. It did not really matter if the person calling or texting was my best friend, partner, parents or an acquaintance – I was always available; till I wasn’t anymore. This change in behaviour showed me something very important- some times you have got to give back what you get- for your own sanity. Such a shift in my nature gave me clarity too- clarity about the people I want to keep in my circle. If you have been reading my blogs- you know the 50-30-20 principle I use for my emotional budgeting. While that is an effective tool to make sure that you are not bending yourself backward to help someone out- the same principle clubbed with my mirror analogy ensures an added filter. What exactly does it do? Let me give you an example with which most of us, if not all, would relate. You meet someone by happenstance maybe through a mutual friend, or at a club, or via an app or any other ways that are norms of the day. You talk to each other and there is an instant spark and you start talking to each other for longer hours characterised by prompt replies, words of affirmation or validation- maybe a little too much of that. You start feeling like having your dream-come-true moment. And then comes the period where the replies grow inconsistent. You start thinking what went wrong, if you should hav given them a chase rather than becoming all gooey and you start going down the spiral. You become restless and reply to a text received after 3 hours within 3 seconds and the whole cycle of waiting and wondering begins again. Sounds familiar? Well we have all been victims of this and more often than not we have blamed it on the heart- when all it’s doing is pumping blood!
Now how does my mirror principle help here? The mirror principle states that I would be a reflection of how you treat me. For example, if you are a genuinely good texter- so am I, of course not at the cost of the work I have got to do. If you talk to me respectfully, I give it right back. If you pretend like you have to wait for your pigeon to send me back a reply by writing a letter without any valid reason- that’s exactly what you are going to get back. The fun thing about the mirror principle is that as long as you are giving back respect, validation, time – anything that is, in general, positive- no one would have any issues with you mimicing them. The problem starts when you start acting aloof with someone who has treated you like you don’t matter.
It has taken me years to perfect this practice at the cost of losing out on connections, but you have got to prioritise your own sanity over connections who have a pattern of resurfacing when they need something from you. Know your worth! That’s it. This has been one of the most important lessons that has bamboozled people across generations. Some people understand it early on in life – our alpha males or alpha females with a mesmerizing personality. While some of us struggle understanding our worth in someone’s life, including me. So mirroring their actions after giving them a couple chances has helped me remain approachable but not at the cost of my self respect.
So, what’s the takeaway from all of this? Simple—match energies, but don’t drain yourself trying to keep a connection alive when the effort isn’t mutual. The mirror principle isn’t about playing games; it’s about valuing yourself enough to give back only what you receive. And if someone finds it unfair, well, maybe they should take a good look at how they’ve been treating you. After all, a mirror never lies—it only reflects.
At the end of the day, your time, attention, and emotions are valuable. If someone treats you with care, kindness, and consistency, you reciprocate. But if they make you feel like an afterthought, then why should you do any different? The beauty of the mirror principle is that it puts the power back in your hands—you’re no longer waiting, guessing, or overextending yourself. You simply reflect. And in doing so, you protect your peace, your dignity, and your worth.
I sit by my window clueless- with a vacant stare in my eyes. The rain is pouring down right now – the usual British weather, but the melancholy in my mind makes it gloomier than it is. I have only one question in my mind today – “What’s next?” The sense of uncertainty engulfs me and I go down that spiral of emotions. I cry. It’s a little tear that rolls down my left cheek at first and then the right. I am crying profusely now and I don’t know how to stop these emotions. Amidst all of this, my mind takes me back to the first time I realised I wanted to study abroad.
It was back in May 2020. The world was grappling with the shock of the havoc caused by Corona virus. The chatter of the constant news updates and ambulance sirens became rampant everywhere. During this time, I graduated online from college upon finishing my Bachelor’s degree and was planning on what to do next. Following a couple months of break- I rejoined St. Xavier’s College, Kolkata for their MA in Political Science program. Although the familiarity of the class structures, professors and classmates was extremely comforting during a time when we were in survival mode, my heart yearned for something more and I had no clue about what it was.
Following graduation a lot changed. In August 2020, I published my first book. Few of my friends moved to different cities and few of them moved back to their hometowns and went on with their lives; while I sat on my bed in soft yellow lighting at midnight, struggling to understand what it is that I want.
Soon I got fascinated by the idea of studying abroad, something I never planned on doing for my Masters degree. As some of you know, this fascination began a journey that would continue for months and would involve endless hours of research and writing SOPs for my target universities. I started researching about what it is that I wanted to do, where do I want to go and gradually the answer to the question “What next?” became clearer with every passing day. In September 2021, I embarked on my first international travel to pursue my Masters of Arts in Conflict, Security and Development in the UK. By the time I started my course, I had it all figured out:
Graduation in 2022
Job by 2023
First home by 2027
A pet on my 30th birthday…..and so on and so forth.
You get the idea!
But like I said in my last blog, life seldom follows a definite plan and maybe that’s what makes life so much more interesting and stressful at times. Imagine how mundane your life would be had you known- at exactly which point in your life are you gonna meet your soulmate, or by what age you’re gonna get your first job, or get into your dream school, or meet your role model- everything would have been charted out for you. Although sometimes being in the unknown scares the bejesus out of me- the thought of having my life planned out for me scares me more.
I wouldn’t lie- I did manage to meet a few goals on this plan of mine- I did graduate from University of Sussex in 2022 and secured a job in 2022 itself- lucky me, right? I thought so too. But as life would have it, I started feeling like I should be aiming higher. I should challenge myself to attain greater heights and soon my plans changed again. Although the essence remained the same- my priorities shifted a bit. So now I am faced by that question again- the same sense of uncertainty I felt in 2020 is back. But this time the feeling is familiar. This time I am more prepared for change. I am older and wiser. But does that mean I am not scared of the uncertainty anymore? I am. I wake up at night with my heart beat racing and with small beads of sweat on my forehead bothered by the possibilities my future holds. However, now it’s a fleeting moment of self doubt which is followed by long periods of striving for what it is that I want and tackling life one day at a time.
So while I sit on my bed and look out the window and witness the lives of people around me, I reiterate one thing over and over again:
“There’s always gonna be another mountain I’m always gonna wanna make it move Always gonna be an uphill battle Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose Ain’t about how fast I get there Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side It’s the climb”
Welcome to Midnight Musings, Chapter 2: UK (Penny’s version).
My UK journey has been a myriad of emotions to say the least. From the highest highs to the lowest lows, this has been an adventure and sparring a few details I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I came to the UK as a Masters degree student eager to explore the world, soak in the culture, learn from the best in their field but most of all to become independent. And I got to tick all of these off my bucket list. But everything came at a price. The picture above was taken on my first birthday in the UK. Growing up in a very close knit family my birthdays used to be a huge thing with my mom cooking my favourite dishes to my dad getting my favourite birthday cake- my day used to be all about the hustle. However, my first birthday in the UK was not like that.
I remember starting the day at around 8 a.m. on a Tuesday morning of October to get my breakfast sorted followed by a 3 hour long class and a meeting with colleagues to discuss a topic decided by our professor for next week’s class. It was rough. I couldn’t concentrate throughout my class and felt homesick a lot. The time difference meant I wasn’t able to call my parents immediately so I confided about it in my flatmate who then took me out on a lunch date. Standing in the corner of a random street of Brighton, I felt the price I paid for my years of independence.
Being an international student or even simply being an expat is hard and growing up watching movies that show you a distorted reality doesn’t make it easier. It unfolds a journey of learning and unlearning: I have had to forego habits that were dear to me and develop new ones. I have rediscovered myself or facets of my personality time and again. I have fought my own demons and come out of my comfort zone to adapt to the norms of the country: and in retrospect I have loved every bit of it.
My life became an embodiment of the phrase "change is the only constant". I studied Political Science all my adult life and went on to work in finance and fell in love with it. I saw my life change drastically- from food habits to my Netflix watchlist. My icebreaker questions went from “How are you doing?” to “Bit chilly, innit?” overtime. I have had to learn to call my professors, my managers by their first names and be comfortable with it. Most of all, I have learnt about myself and have learnt to accept defeat.
If I have to put three years of my life in one blog; more so in one paragraph this is what I would have to say: UK has been a rollercoaster ride with the best bunch of people. However, despite common misconceptions, your quality of life doesn’t immediately get better when you shift abroad. In my experience, it gets hard before it gets better.
·To be hungry for one whole day because your part-time job’s shift sneaked up on you during your assignments and you lost track of time and forgot to cook anything: it teaches you what life is.
·To have crippling self-doubt but still show up looking your best teaches you adaptability.
·Doing 18 hours work days including assignments, part-time job and your daily chores just in time to get enough sleep for months at end- teaches you to be resilient in a way nothing else can.
All of this has made me want to give up many a times and go back but every time I kept asking myself: didn’t you always want this? Didn’t you always want to be independent? Didn’t you dream day in and day out of living abroad? And when the answer kept coming back as yes- it gave me strength to look life in the eye and say ‘bring it on!’.
I found facets of me that would have stayed hidden had I not moved miles away from home. I found people who made me push my boundaries and become a better version of me. I found home in myself: became happy in my own skin; my own space. The other part of it has been a dream come true ✨; but more about that in the next one!
Leaving a few snippets of the other half on here. I hope you enjoy. For now I leave you with one thing- believe in miracles, they happen ❤
King’s Cross Station, October 2021University of Sussex, September 2021
Penny's World 
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