The day was near perfect. At the Hanging Gardens, the majestic buildings and carefully pruned shrubbery contrasted against the blue sky. I couldn’t help but feel the entire moment was surreal. I pulled out my selfie stick, carefully placed my phone in the allotted space, and began taking photos. I scrolled through the photos and was satisfied with the results. I selected one I liked and posted the picture for my followers to enjoy. The only one I looked happy in.

I looked around, happy couples and friends seemed to be enjoying the relatively mild Mumbai weather. At that moment, I felt lonely; like no one truly understood. That amongst all the noise, all the popularity, I stood alone. I pulled out my phone to send Kavya a message before deciding against it. I walked back to the main street, hoping to find a taxi home as quickly as possible. All around me, people walked with purpose.

‘You’re getting in?’ A voice from a nearby cab summoned me. I nodded and ran to the waiting taxi. Closing the door behind me, I slumped back in my seat. I couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling inside me: What was my purpose? Why was I here? To influence people into living the kind of life I lived? I opened my phone in search of a comment, any comment, from a young girl who needed guidance, but when I found one, I didn’t know what to type. I locked my phone and leaned my head back on the seat, hoping I would get home soon. But the taxi ride home was slow—traffic congested the streets. They reflected the congested thoughts in my mind.

Outside my apartment building, I pushed past the local begging community, annoyed that they would block my path. I was irritated and needed to get inside. My hands shook as I tried to get my key in the door, my palms were damp with sweat, and my head was pounding. Finally the key turned in the lock; pushing the handle down, I burst into the apartment and slammed the door behind me. I tried to steady my breathing; my hands shook with such ferocity I thought I would drop my phone. I ran through to the kitchen and splashed water on my face, pausing to breathe deeply. I sat at the kitchen table. Reaching into my bag, I grabbed the bottle of vodka and, hands shaking, I opened the lid and took a swig. The clear liquid hit my stomach like fire, and I resisted the urge to be sick. I took another swig.