Today marks the halfway point of my stay in India. 3 months. I've survived is all I can really say for myself. I feel like these 3 months could have been 10 years. Sometimes people say, "Time went by so fast!" No, time is not going by fast here, it's taking its torturous time. It is not that I am tired of being here, I'm not really homesick, and there's so much more to do here. But just that every minute here is so much fuller. Like it is ridiculously compressed so that more stimuli, more motions, more assaults, are packed into each second that ticks by. I feel like I have aged since I've been here, having been completely disillusioned by the brokenness of humanity, and finding myself more distrustful, suspicious, and certainly, more aware. I don't know right now if this is a good or bad thing, but I suppose as long as it doesn't propel me into a downward spiral of depression during my remaining 3 months, I will be happy for it. It is like every worst nightmare actually is the reality of this place. It is quite disturbing, awakening, yet only in the sense that you realize the nightmare is not a dream; it is, terrifyingly, real life. I have seen things I never would have expected, things I never want to see again, met people who have rocked my soul either with their kindness or their sins. Selfishly, I am glad I have seen these things, for my own education, for learning lessons about the reality of the world, but for the sake of the human race, I am utterly disgusted, horrified, and ultimately, left with an ache of helplessness. At the same time, I will admit my time has not been a passive absorption of my surroundings, though I have definitely wasted a lot of time finding my way around. To my emotional distress, the work often feels futile and is dishearteningly frustrating at times. I also can't say I have completed anything truly meaningful yet, and my halfway point is merely an anticlimactic reminder of the effort it takes to make real change.