It slipped my mind after I got back from India and had to delve back into the real world. However, I was just checking up on it and there was an incredible amount of support I received for my last post. I didn’t get a thousand notes or anything, but some of you left me these wonderful messages I wish I’d read sooner. I replied to some, but not all because many of them were just little pieces of heart-warming good will but I just wanted to say thank you as a whole.

3.0 is underway. Thanks everybody so much for reading. Every message I got was really great.

PS: I’m going to Ireland next summer. Oh, and, somebody asked what ended up happening but I accidentally deleted your message before I got a chance to respond. True love didn’t work out. The situation dragged on until the end of last month, but my kite never came back. I’m going to fly a new one though and this time, maybe a nice Irishman will catch it ;) Wish me luck!

I don’t know how it happened, but my heart broke. 

Today is Uttarayan, the kite festival. Right now, up in the sky, are a thousand specks of every color in the rainbow. They float carelessly in the wind, seemingly innocent and light. That’s how life feels sometimes. Innocent and light. What’s really the worst that could have happened to me while I was here? An unfortunate fevered mosquito bite, a fit of seizures from an unlucky glass of water? Getting caught in a blind man’s rage, being struck by a careless driver? Could I have gotten kidnapped, maybe? Or dragged into a dark alley where God knows what could have happened? 

All of those things had been a possibility, but I was one girl in seven billion. There were worst things than what I had imagined and there were better. Chances were, nothing would happen to me. Just like nothing would happen to those kites, so colorful and so free, dangling in the wind by a thin, deliciously pink string held by laughing children. Who would get in the way of a kite? What would anyone achieve? But then, despite its failing logic, as the kite floats along free of trouble, the string is cut. Something better, someone greater, slices the kite out of the sky and it’s happened so suddenly, you can’t even begin to fathom where they came from. Just like that, your kite is floating away, no longer attached to you. Then you look across the sea of buildings and there they are, waving with your kite in their free hand. All this time, you’d been watching it fly, watching it float, happy just to have your own and happy to just let it be, but someone, somewhere, had been watching you and waiting for exactly the right moment to pluck you right out of your happy existence.

I know that sounds morbid, but that’s how I felt. My entire stay had been defined by the kites I’d seen every day, all waiting enthusiastically for the day of the festival. Kites running through the clouds, kites in the trees, kites caught in electric wires and all over the ground. And then, finally, it was here. But just as it began, it ended. 

I didn’t want to look at the sky anymore. I wasn’t the kite, being held by a string against the current of wind, and I wasn’t at the end of the string, letting loose my everything in the sky just to watch it in pride without care that I was leaving it open to get cut. I was just me, standing under the vast open blue in the middle of the my first kite festival, not even two hours in, without a kite or a string. 

Today is my last log. There were more I meant to write and post, but I don’t have it in me. Somewhere along this trip, I did become my pink kite. I didn’t mention this because I denied it to myself, but I think I came the closest to falling in love I’ve had in a terribly long time and I didn’t know what to do with it. Not a single thing. I watched it fly and I let it because what could go wrong? Who could deny me this? It was my little secret, my little wonder that kept me smiling. My little splotch of color - my favorite color - in a pretty blue sky on a pretty blue day. Only I held its string and only I ever would because it wasn’t something I meant to share. But then, floating above the city, I got lost in the view. I got lost in the beauty of it, the feeling that I’m alive and no, I’m not heartless and no, I’m not absolutely incapable of emotion, that I didn’t realize I’d set myself up for failure.

I didn’t have my kite anymore. Someone else did. A stranger. I didn’t blame them for taking it, but I did blame myself for making it so easy to cut. I didn’t even put up a fight. And now, before I was even home, I’d given up hope. Lena 1.0 wanted to cry. She wanted to put this in my book. How could I have put all my eggs in one basket? I didn’t know anything about love and life. Why did I take all these risks? Lena 2.0, heartless and determined, wouldn’t look my way, too engrossed in moving forward and becoming what 1.0 had always wanted to be. Me, stuck in the middle with this hole in my chest, couldn’t hold both.

By the time my flight landed, I’d have let go of one and I didn’t know which. 1.0 was where I’d begun. She was the original and flawed person that I was, making mistakes and soft as a cushion. But 2.0 was terrible in a fantastic way. I would never hurt again. Not another day in my life, but at what cost? And was it worth it?

I had finally learned what I had been seeking since I came here. I found my epiphany, my glorious moment that told me what was what and left few if not no questions and here it was;

I couldn’t be both and I couldn’t be me. Somehow, I would have to create a new me, a new person that could accept that my kite was gone and still have the courage to pick up a new one, all while swallowing the bitter vile of failure, heartbreak and being lost. My kite would have to grow wings this time. I couldn’t let myself be ripped out of the sky, but most importantly, I couldn’t let the wind dictate my view. 

I had to find 3.0 before this year was over.

I’m back in the city and trying to record my logs for everyone to catch up, but I’m literally sitting here battling mice. We threw down mattresses on the floor in true Indian fashion to make room for the rest of my family showing up for special events transpiring later this week and there are rodents everywhere. They’re actually trying to come at me. Mice.

THE TRIP TO RAJASTAN BEGINS! The car just got here. It’s seven in the morning, the driver is two hours late, but nobody cares anymore because we can finally dip. FIVE DAYS OF ANONYMITY, YESSSSS!

everything below is just a rant because i’m indian and indians are fuckin nuts. i love this country. i love everything about it (except for the people) and when i say i would stay here if i could, i still mean it. i would always choose india over any other country in the world (except the states because that’s home), but i wish that i didn’t know anyone here. or that i could come in secret without hurting anyone’s feelings because i just don’t want to deal with the baggage that comes with it. all i want is to find my place in the world - the one patch of land i can call home, where everything fits perfectly, and i’m just disappointed to find that it’s not here. i thought it would be, but it’s not. india was supposed to be home away from home. now i need a home away from here, too, and it breaks my heart because i thought i had changed. i thought i had finally accepted the people, my family, and myself. but i haven’t. and now that i’m finally old enough to know better, i don’t think i ever will. it’s awkward not being firmly planted on the ground. it’s weird enough not knowing what i’m meant to do, now i can’t even figure out where i’m supposed to be. i came here to sort it out. all that’s happened is i’ve gotten more confused.

this fucking trip is more like a soap opera than an adventure. i swear, if it weren’t for how much my family here loves and misses me, i would never fucking come back. dealing with this shit is too much. my parents are out of fucking control and they’re eight thousand miles away yet still able to give me grief. some parts of this culture are amazing and have lasted through centuries, but other parts are absolute bullshit. for example, my dad is fucking retarded. i have to drive twelve total hours in a twenty-four hour period to his brother’s and back because it’s ‘the polite thing to do’ - regardless of the fact that this brother, his wife, my grandparents on my dad’s side and all of their fucking kids hate me. and i’m not exaggerating. these aren’t just the dirty looks, insults, and snide comments. they’ve tried to curse me. anyone in the western world might think that’s stupid to even consider, but if the evil eye isn’t even a joke in 75% of the world, what the fuck am i supposed to do with black magic on my hands? what am i supposed to do with attempts to poison, assume mind control, or cause extreme misfortune, disease, or poverty? wait, does that sound a little weird? do people actually try to do those things to each other? am i freaking you out? they wouldn’t really do things, right? do i sound a little creepy? imagine how i feel because i’m being completely serious. and are you kidding me, it’s a six hour drive there and six hours back! to do what? get there late in the evening, sleep and then wake up at the crack of dawn to go back the way i came? i have to get on a plane to go home the next day. what a fucking joke. my uncle is already coming to town to pick his son up from his boarding school for the holidays - why isn’t it enough if he stops by and visits me? why must i go all the way to his home? to see my grandparents? oh, really, grandpa’s sick? what’s he got, the fucking cold? because i’m pretty sure he’s healthy as a fucking horse, wishing me and my mom were dead, while the grandpa that loves me is dying in the next room over. on top of that, i get threatened as if i’m committing a crime; “i’ll never let you go anywhere in the world again. not india, not europe. not anywhere” - what? fuck you. what am i, five years old? i’ll fucking walk to mexico. try and stop me. just try. i didn’t even get this much shit for smoking. oh, and in case anyone was wondering, no, i’m not smoking, because i can’t get even get my hands on a goddamn pack of cigarettes and i’m fiendin’ (sorry if you’re reading this chels) so badly right now, i could punch a guy right in the fucking balls. you know what else? it’s shark week. it’s fucking shark week. two months early. are you fucking kidding me? I’M GOING ON A TEN HOUR DRIVE TOMORROW AND SHARK WEEK STARTED WHAT IS THIS FUCKERY

so treating the girls dinner just became breakfast. apparently, it’s a religious thing. contrary to common beliefs, girls are valued highly here. maybe socioeconomics has to do with it but when it comes to religion, a baby girl is holy. to get in the good graces of the goddess my mom worships, i’m serving food to nine little girls. i’m sure there’s more to it, but i’m not privy to the details. i just know that i have to touch the ladle before its used to pour them food and my mom decided that instead of putting together a bunch of cousins, i’m to feed the less fortunate so that there’s a double karma win. anyway, it’s still morning and i have about two hours to go until i have to start preparing food. i didn’t sleep much last night because i was cold and kept having insanely violent dreams. apparently, i was fighting in a war. it’s almost too much to explain except that when i woke up, i was drenched in sweat because my dreams had been so intense. i spent all day yesterday on the bus because getting to my aunt’s is a six hour drive. i saw so much scenery. nothing special, but the kind of land that sums up the whole country so you have something to picture when you hear the nation’s name other than famous landmarks. i watched the sun set. the spectacular thing about the sun here is that when it’s on its way down, you can look directly at it. it’s a dull orange ball of light in a gray/pink sky, but it’s harmless to look at. i’ve never seen its face before. i tried to take pictures, but i left the right lens back at my grandparent’s. i’m going to buy a kite later.  i want to learn how to fly one before uttarayan starts. 

it seems to me that people are kind only when they’re strangers because upon forging a relationship, they’re awful. the deeper we get, the worse we become. i think mansi was nice to me because she didn’t know me, but otherwise, she seems like a demon. people are strange. there were some cute juniors though, so that was nice. not a complete waste of a new year. we came home and i passed out before midnight. the next morning, at around ten, i turned on a live stream of the ball drop. it was weird not being at home with my parents or out with my friends, but i got excited when the countdown hit anyway. it wasn’t a special day. no one here cares too much about new year’s because gujarat is a dry state. alcohol is illegal here, so the people who care enough to party leave the state. we sat around and watched movies because it was a sunday, which i was totally happy with. i sort of wish i hadn’t kept facebook and twitter going because i definitely saw a lot of stuff that i wish i could erase from my memory. my friends are all shameless. i love them, but they’re shameless. went to bed pretty late. got stuck watching lost. i can’t believe i didn’t start this back when i was like twelve. i woke up early again this morning and packed. i’m going to my aunt’s house for the night. i love her place. i have to treat a bunch of little girls to dinner (i’ll explain all of that later). i figured out a way to beat airport security. bought a whole box of packaged tea. see the x-rays get through that. anyway, i’m getting cured this afternoon. getting brett another treat. 

my foot got run over by a scooter

how lucky am i that i couldn’t find my shoes in time and had to wear boots two sizes too big? this is why jaywalking is illegal in the states, kids.