Feb. 22. 4p.m.

It has been four days. I've been sleeping for eleven hours everyday without waking up even once during the sleep, and when I wake up, I feel like I can go right back to sleep without any problems. I've been wasting my time. No body ever talks about life and future here, and I feel like I would never get old. It's poison. This town softens me and puts me in a retrogression. Too much love is too much. Everybody takes care of me at all time. My gratitude can never be too much, yet I want myself to be edged, a little restless and tired.
When moved on to Buffalo, I didn't like the apartment. I was already spoiled. Where had India been gone from my mind? It's funny how fast I let things erase my memories of inconvenience and discomfort, how quickly I rebuild the level of my comfort zone, and how easily make myself want something better and more. I am like six year old. No value lasts in me. Nothing is appreciated as it should be. When will I see that I have more than I need, better than I deserve? When will I be happy about life?
I am in sudden distress when I think of going back; an end. I try not to think about it. All it does is ruining my peace. Am I running away from my problems? I don't know. Do I need to face them? Is that what is supposed to be done? People face their problems to achieve true happiness. Isn't the process of it too under-estimated though? What if facing the problem is not worth the happiness that follows after? What if there is only small amount of happiness after all you've been through, or no happiness at all? Don't people know that nothing is guaranteed? Why do people become obsessed with an answer? I hate the word 'answer', because it is the only right one. I also hate the word 'right', because it just doesn't sound right. It sounds aggressive and definite.

'the Red Carpet' is on tonight, and I heard the girls have excitedly talked about it.