That is the only way in which I can look back at Geeta - open to herself and, paradoxically and simultaneously, vulnerable to the nuances of her own inner life. As she lived, she changed - but this part remained common thread across different seasons of her life... what she was when we met first
Today I just didn’t feel like eating and said so. Had a hell of a row as a result. Really my mood is so off its normality, that I don’t feel like even moving. Dunno why Mom’s so difficult these days...
...I am feeling like dying. I always do. I think I’m mad or going towards that-ness, because I can’t, simply can’t, adjust. Why should I. I seem to myself to be doing the right thing but others don’t appear to think so. Wonder how the younger ones adjust better than me.
I think the worst thing that could have ever happened to me is that I was born a girl. Horrid mistake that can’t be undone. If only I was a boy, I could have had hopes of breaking sooner or later. Sometimes I accept myself, and at other times I don’t. Today I can’t. I begin to hate myself.
And I have even thought why I couldn’t be blessed with exceptional brains. And why do my parents bring me up fashionably, and expect me to conform to conservatism. I know, all my bad points would become enviable good qualities if I were a boy. Wish I could die. Why have I to suffer such a lot. I sincerely hate it all.
...When I stirred at 10:30 or so the lights were still on, and after some minutes I again fell asleep, waking up much later. No one was up then, and I lay uneasily, turning often. The feeling of melancholia hadn’t gone. I began deliberately to wonder when, calculatedly, would I have my breakdown, what should I do with things - burn them all? Perhaps that is best - bit by bit, or together? making a bonfire of them! (For everyone to see the burning of myself?!). For everyone to know that Geeta is off her head? But it is a certainty that some day is bound to come when...
And that palpitation of my heart, the perspiration and slurring of words while speaking (thank goodness not while teaching) and the misspelling, the misplacing of words! I felt rueful - all would be lost. I have built myself up little by little, and I’d lose myself again - perhaps I wouldn’t die, just go on living unrealistically, senselessly - Oh, it is a terrifying thought for me. I tried to convince myself lying alone in the dark - you have a job now, you don’t need to try to do better any more - after five or six months, you’ll get degree classes, and will earn more, and a lecturer’s job is just right for girls. Be satisfied. In spite of myself, I let a few tears come - I know I could have stopped them as always, but there was no need to, and I fell asleep sobbing.
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