Tuesday, 27 November 2018


‘I didn’t come this far to only come this far’,’Rory in Gilmore Girls was a crushing disappointment and I’ve never been more thankful for it’,’how to readjust the way you imagined yourself and where to begin because I have no clue.’ and ‘Blindsided by Bon Iver’. Here are a few working titles for what I’m about to write without actually knowing what I’m about to write. On Monday, sometime after 1 p.m., all candidates for Senior Council were called into a room so that results could be announced. I didn’t get through and I will not be on the council. I will not be Chief Editor, I will not be Chief Editor. 

My best friend was standing behind me and the director of my school called out names, none of which were mine. No one looked at me but my cheeks flushed in embarrassment, white-hot embarrassment. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and then two. My face burned and I felt my heart drop to my feet, I couldn’t comprehend it. As all results were announced and people started to disperse, I turned around and cried, hard; I couldn’t comprehend it. This was mine but apparently, it was not and the crying continued. I had rushed to the washroom now but everyone had already seen me, my friend luckily followed suit. You’d think that I would think about the things that I wouldn’t be doing at this point but instead, the most random images flashed through my head. I saw the red thread on the floor of the auditorium that I was sitting on earlier that day that bothered me, I thought of how often they would replenish toilet paper rolls in the washroom and how much soap an average person uses for one hand wash. I thought of all this and cried, I didn’t stop crying for two days. Correction - I stopped crying briefly to spite the school by ‘rebelling’ but I just got fucked by my teachers and this will most definitely be brought up in my next PTM. 

I can’t remember what all the stages of grief are but I think I surpassed them all in the wrong order, as well as ensuring that the angriest Pink Floyd songs were my soundtrack to the stages. I’m still not sure why I’m writing this and almost 400 words in and yet, I have not touched the titles mentioned in the first paragraph. I guess I should begin.

1) ‘I didn’t come this far to only come this far’

I work hard and I ensure that it pays off and in the process, I never actually thought of the alternative, what if I work the hardest and it doesn’t pay off? This may sound silly to you but a person can think of alternative futures but never actually believe in them. I believed in one future and thought of the rest in a passing glance, now I’m living in a future that I didn’t plan and didn’t believe in. Somewhere, this is completely my fault. I should have prepared for this but I couldn’t bring myself to because I believe that if you truly want something and give everything to one thing, you’ll get it. My beliefs are a little shaken. 

I’ve come very far, no doubt. I work every day towards the person I’m trying to become and more often than not, I don’t consider the person that I am right now. I’ve come so far from events in my life and personality traits I used to have that I didn’t like. But I didn’t come this far to only come this far, and that takes a while to digest.

2) ‘Rory in Gilmore Girls was a crushing disappointment and I’ve never been more thankful for it’

I watch a lot of Gilmore Girls, in fact, I think I’ve seen the first three seasons seven times. I loved Rory’s work ethic and positivity and I wanted to emulate it. The reason I stick to the first three seasons is because after Rory achieves her high school dreams she becomes a nightmare. She treats people badly, is shockingly under-confident, drops out of Yale, quits studying journalism because someone told her she can’t do it, lives off of her rich grandparents, steals a yacht and loses what made her her.

On Monday, all I could think of was “I understand where she’s coming from”, which terrified me. The course of her life shifted and she couldn’t handle it. So, I watched season 6 episode 20 through season 7 episode 1 and I looked at a crumbling person. I could not become that. I just couldn’t. I looked to her for inspiration when it came to studying and I will most definitely look at her failures. Where she failed, I’m determined to try harder and that’s what I’m doing.

3) ’how to readjust the way you imagined yourself and where to begin because I have no clue.’

Like I had previously stated, I pictured twelfth-grade me with a badge. I’ve lost that. I like to plan things and I didn’t plan for this. So now, let the assessment begin. I was really bad last night and I didn’t know what to do, I can’t remember ever feeling so helpless. My eyes hurt and my cheeks were so dry and everything was so hard. I had spent the majority of the day sitting in my favourite cafe, drinking coffee and studying for a test I had today. But I just couldn't do it, I was so manic I thought that if I went I would start bawling in the middle of giving the test. I imagined writing a long answer and crumbling to the floor because I don’t know where to go from here. 

I didn’t tell my mother any of this, I walked to where she was, gave her a hug and said that I didn’t feel well and I can’t go tomorrow. She later came into my room and told me that I should take the day off, I can make up for the test and I shouldn’t have to go to school like this. I’m so thankful for that. Because I’m rebuilding myself a little bit today, I’ve planned it.

4) ‘Blindsided by Bon Iver’

Blindsided - catch (someone) unprepared; attack from an unexpected position.

Bon Iver is a great band but I usually limit them to study sessions and early mornings. However, on listening to Blindsided again, I understood. Because that was exactly what I was. I was blindsided hard and it hurt. The song is inherently sad but it made me feel so much better because throughout the entire song, Justin Vernon is blindsided and after mulling it over and talking about it he was blindsided, just like that. A lot of people have tried to comfort me and I’m incredibly grateful for it. They tell me that this feeling passes and it won’t matter later on, but that doesn’t help me. Because this isn’t ‘ later on’, it's now and it sucks. At the same time, I couldn’t agree more. I am right now but soon everything that I’m feeling right now and doing right now will be referred to in past tense, everything will be referred to in past tense. 

In conclusion, this wasn't about me not getting Chief Ed. Sure, that's what triggered it but it doesn't justify me completely losing it. No, this was about me blindsided, left completely unprepared and cold and I'll try my hardest to ensure that it will never happen again.

Sunday, 1 April 2018

An Endless Summer Afternoon.

Three things defined one of the most gruelling and tumultuous times of my life - a boy, a friend and the weather.

Let's start with the boy who feels like a humid three p.m. memory when you can see the sun baking plants to death. He started off interesting, different, funny and he made me want to do better. He made me want to mould myself into the person that I thought I needed to be to earn his affection and alas, I had lost it the second the clock hit six and the sky turned to a bluish purple. I could have built a city with the amount of time I spent wondering why I wasn't good enough for him, especially considering that everyone around me told me that I was too good for him. This juxtaposition and an endless stream of sunshine drama made me want to rip my skin off simply to relieve the heat. It felt like the acidity in your stomach when you've had too much coffee and haven't eaten anything other than strawberry gum, it makes you nervous, excited and soon you crash hard. A welcome gust of wind cools the sweat dripping down my back and I take refuge in realising that I liked him far more than he ever liked me.  

A friend as promising as perfectly shaped white clouds on a clear blue sky as you sit on a hilltop and watch dawn break. The friend understands and hugs you when the world is rude and the second you turn around, she shoves a middle finger towards anyone who dares try to hurt you again. She'll be your eating buddy, workout buddy, trash-talking buddy, arguing about cosmetic surgery buddy, your indecisive buddy, your study buddy and soon enough, your 'I think you're my best friend' buddy. This friend doesn't feel violent like summer does, she's comfortable like spring and it's almost worrisome how much you've begun to depend on someone who you've only known for a year. It's early morning or late evening and the atmosphere isn't as hysterical as you know it will be in an hour or two.

The weather shifts from bearable to blistering heat to bearable to the harsh cold to bearable to 'how has my skin not melted off into a plunge pool yet?' to bearable to 'there are literally icicles encircling my toes'. The weathers fluid and my sixteen-year-old emotions accompany it on a ride that I have no control of. I'm angry, passionate and exploding like the sun and the next second I'm under the pretence of being self-actualised and calm like a full moon. My study breaks are spent learning about Mercury being in retrograde and comparing constellations to moles on my body. But soon enough the evening fades away into the night and the last two years are compressed into ten question papers that I now use to soak up spilt water.

 It has come full circle and I will never see the afternoon like I did again. The people who have shaped who I am becoming are still around me but have eased up, they now believe that I am capable of walking on my own but I am just as needy as I was before. It is the end of an instrumental era that has taught me every lesson I think I'll need. Humiliation from rejection healed by the love from people who care about me has resulted in me making it through, all the way till here. 

Monday, 26 March 2018

2:56 a.m. on a Tuesday night.

All the time in my life - utilised by circles that I don't want to repeat. The irony is that I am equally responsible for the continuity of it. Its a yes and no game, each time the other person not willing to forgive because they're busy healing their bruised ego. The onset of summer every year, accompanied by mutual annoyance and frustration.  I’m older, fractionally wiser and that too in my ability to solve quadratic equations and in no way wiser in the matters of the heart. In fact, I think my intelligence in that sphere has deteriorated for lack of practice and daily use. Last night was quite a sight. Me tripping over my shoes in the darkness trying to reach the buzzing phone that I had placed at the other end of the bedroom. It was one thirty in the morning and I had fallen asleep watching the season finale of The Bachelorette sometime around ten.

 My phone was spammed with messages that he had sent me being his usual awkward, deflective and victimised self, demanding to know why I had regrettably texted him one night two days ago. This casual text was a simple ‘you up’? followed by immediate self-loathing. I deleted the text seconds after I had sent it but my lack of tech savvy resulted in me deleting the text only for myself and not him. I buried myself under the covers and cursed myself for making decisions past eleven p.m. The next morning to my horror, he had seen the text and replied. I was mortified and embarrassed for stupid reasons unknown to me and him. My brilliant plan was to avoid his casual reply until the end of time. This plan was cut short by the buzzing from my phone that I started the story with. His imagination had run wild and he was desperate know why I had texted him and began to believe that I had to tell him something incredibly important. I didn't. I didn't need to say anything, at all. In fact, my mind was still reeling from a dream that I was having about Danearys Targaryen. 
I responded to his texts and before I knew it, I was forty-five minutes into a conversation with him, sitting cross-legged on my bed and being too angry and tired to care about the atrocious speling mistaekes I was making. For as shy, immature and awkward as he is, he is better at emotional manipulation than anyone I have ever met. Too good, sometimes it makes me wonder whether Netflix will release a documentary about psychopaths in the making ten years down the line and mention him. What was supposed to be a conversation about apology and forgiveness had now turned into a full caps recollection of every horrible thing we have done to each other. 

You may already think that this seems too much to handle in forty-five minutes in a half asleep state but just you wait. Behold, five minutes later he confesses that he might still like me, a minute later - he likes me but not enough to date me, two minutes later - he likes me and has liked me through another girl that he was seeing, three minutes later - whatever feelings he has had for me have disappeared like a newly freed bird and finally, five minutes later I am miraculously and all at once blocked by him. I can't help myself, it's almost three a.m. and his profile picture has disappeared and I begin to genuinely and whole-heartedly laugh. The kind of laugh that one has once every week when you realise that the world is too funny to be cruel. So I pushed my phone aside, tried to ignore the mosquito buzzing around my ear and feel asleep dreading my alarm set for two and a half hours later.

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