Just another day

I have been asking myself a question lately. "Why are you here Rohit?"
I hear it all the time - when I'm inside my room in the darkness; when I wait out on the roads in the heat for a cab; when I am at my work station staring at the computer; when at night I sit at the Corniche facing the sea and my back towards the real world...
"Why are you here Rohit?"
Is it the money? At the end of the month when I am handed that huge pile of paper, it somehow doesn't register how important it is to have money. I'm glad it doesn't. I don't like money. No wonder I spend it all, without thinking.
Yes, somehwere inside there is this inch of guilt that, "Man, you should have saved."
What's the point being in Qatar, where the avenues to spend our few, if you don't save money?
"From next month," I promise. But I know that will never happen. I hope it does though.
It's certainly not for the money that I stay here. Certainly not. When I was earning 30k in India, I wasn't saving a penny. When I earn a lakh here, I don't save a penny. So it boils down to the same thing.
The only difference? The good part... I escaped... conveniently. What was I trying to escape from? My mistakes, the people around, the hatred, the pretense, the lifeless life, the monotony of thrill and excitement.
A fucked up person called "lavajava", who has been commenting on my blogs for a while now, and I have a reason to believe knows me but doesn't have the balls to say who he/she is - the kind that registered a blog just so that he/she could comment on my blogs since I had stopped anonymous comments, commented on my previous blog saying, "Surrendering, is the destination," adding, "And you are soooooo incapable of that."
It's people like them I run away from. They're exactly the kind I knew back in Delhi. Who're sweet to you as long as you give them what they want, tell them what they want to hear... the minute you rebel they'll show you another side of them. Scary, these people, aren't they?
I realised there was no reason for me in Delhi. The one's I loved, didn't want me anymore because of certain unforgivable mistakes I made, or so they made me believe. Again, my fault, because I coulnd't give them what they wanted when they wanted it. They knew me well. They knew which buttons to push to get me agitated and make me make a mistake so that they could shove the blame on me.
I was running away from them, because they knew how to get me angry.
I thought, I'd create a new identity. I had the chance to. A new place, new people. No one knows my past. I can be whoever I want to be.
I realise, I am here because I am running away. I'm trying to escape...
From myself.

I'm trying to free myself, from me.