One would think I’ll be guilty for being happy ever since the lockdown began. I am not. At all. This is the happiest I have been in last couple of years (conferences/seminars/fests don’t count here – they are my ultimate happy places). My theory is that I am taking comfort in the fact that world is slowing down, so I don’t have to feel bad about being slow at getting my life back together. I kept rushing so much that I crashed, and now I am okay with not having everything at once, not skipping steps. In December 2018, I wrote a poem to remind myself that I am ‘just’ 24, I have the rest of my life in front of me. So, I can take ‘crashing’ in consideration, look back at my life, and evaluate why I crashed, instead of simply living with the guilt of ‘failing’. Failing at a life that I dreamt of as a kid. When I turned 25, I switched off my phone by midnight. I didn’t need the excitement of my birthday. I couldn’t bear the idea of pretending to be someone I am not, not on my birthda