When I was a kid, I was from entirely different religion and region at school. This time geography had brought a sense of emotional distance that no amount of learning vernacular songs could decrease because people always looked at me like an outsider. My friends would jokingly say," you feel cold because you dont belong from this place" to which i always retorted," but I have been living here for ten years now. Isn't that time enough?" It took me so many years and finally graduating from school to understand that being a stranger in a place is timeless. It is a coffee stain on a white t-shirt which wouldn't remove no matter how much I try. In every school function, when they danced together, I always felt like an outsider moving hands like blades of fan to tell them that they could count me in as well. But being a stranger in a place you have lived all your life comes with tags on forehead that screams," i am approachable" even when your lips falter to speak out the same. I always carried that tag as some of my classmate never found me enough to be a part of the community that cheered and danced and drank wines and laughed together. I was a stranger, an outsider. But even when it has been five years since I attented that last class of school, I still feel that strange sensation, a pressure to belong, this time inside my own body. There is a clock that ticks all the way through my bad and good times and no matter how much time I spend staring at the mirror, I still feel like the first time I entered a new school, scared to talk to people. I dream of people who have left me one thousand ninety five days back and feel their clammy hands on my throat as I gasp to breathe. My skin is a spirograph that shows a flatline of a life losing purpose. I mould myself like a clay into ways to become more acceptable but all i hear is this whisper that never leaves me," you dont belong from here, the cold will eat you". It has been three winters since and I still haven't stopped wearing jackets because summer is the only pathway through which I can reach another winter, where I can go out in a thin fabric and shout," I am a resident of this place and body. This cold had acclamatized to the stranger my heart feels like".