bombay, at 2am

right now, at 2am—

what does the time taste like?

it tastes soft
like a melted piece of chocolate
slow and smooth on the tongue

it feels like home.
warm.
cozy inside my body.

no pressure to achieve,
no rush to perform,
no expectation to become anything
other than what I already am.

just this.
just me.
just here.

no thoughts.
no consequences.
no calendar reminders.

I don’t need to talk to anyone.
don’t need to show up for work I don’t want to do.
don’t need to push myself to earn more.

it feels
like a slow kiss—
the kind that holds you still,
wraps you in trance,
and stretches time
into forever.

this night,
this hour,
this version of bombay—
it feels like that.

I don’t feel the need to hold on just to survive.
don’t need to go back to the past to feel worthy.

I’m not begging to be seen.
not pleading to be loved.
not chasing anyone’s approval.

I’m not worried about
filing taxes
or interest on my stocks
or whether I’ve eaten too much
or worked out too little
or if I’m too fat
or too thin
or just “enough.”

somehow,
right now,
at 2am in this city,

I’ve accepted myself.

all flaws,
all softness,
all of me.

I could keep writing forever.
maybe I will.

I don’t know who will read it
or why anyone would care.

some might say—
"too emotional."

but this is me.
this is mine.
and I will keep going.

why?

because it helps me breathe.
because putting it out there
helps me live.

and for that,
for this hour—

thank you, god.

thank you for making this moment possible.