Screw Everyone Else.

I have this vague memory of first grade, when the boys in my class were running around during recess, chasing all the girls. We were leaping all around the basketball court. It was fun. Not for me, though. While the other girls were giggling gloriously and running away from the boys, I was the one chasing the boys.

It’s one of those happy memories which in reality, makes you sad.

It’s sad because I still feel like the one who is always trying to fit in, the one who’s chasing after things I’ll never catch. And I want to be the one who’s being chased.

Ever since that fated day when I looked into a mirror and detected blemishes and various imperfections that had somehow previously gone unnoticed, I have been overly concerned about how others must think I look and seem, and about how others must perceive me.

It’s maddening not to know what people think of me. Do they think that I’m the quiet girl in the corner who ‘can’t even find her own mind’? Or am I the geek girl who crushes on people who don’t even exist? Am I that weird, awkward girl who’d rather tell a bunch of papers all her secrets than her own mother?

In this pursuit to seem better in the other person’s eyes, I haven’t really figured out who I am, in actuality. I change from person to person. I meddle with myself and morph myself to try to be better. It’s sad.

My excuse: People are harsh sometimes. Society is filled with judges and critics. And I’ll admit, I am one, too.

It’s easy to judge, but it’s hard not to care.

I ask myself the same question. What will everyone else think?

“Is this dress skimpy? What will my grandmother think?”

“I’ve always been scoring well, getting good grades. If I don’t, what will everybody else think?”

“Oh God, look at my hair! What will the people on the road think?”

It’s stupid, because people on the road couldn’t care less about my hair. It’s stupid, because even though I know that, I can’t seem to stop thinking like this.

Some weeks ago, during a sending-off party organized by everyone from my grade, I got voted ‘Biggest Nerd’. I got a crown. And I thought, Oh Well. At least now I know what these people think of me.

But then that I did know, I couldn’t pretend to be very happy about it. Ignorance was, indeed, bliss.

But just some days ago, I was walking with my aunt when I spotted this large woman. She was fat, wearing a lot of make-up and she was dressed up in a tight black dress that just served to accentuate her body shape. She looked at me, and it was easy for her to read the judgment written plainly on my face. And she didn’t even care.

Screw you, she seemed to say silently.

Screw you and your opinion.

And. Well, that day is to be marked in history as the day I learnt some sense.

Now, wearing the ridiculously large ‘Biggest Nerd’ crown, I don’t feel sad, like I failed myself. Or like I failed those random people who voted for me. Okay. Well, I don’t feel anything in particular, but that’s better than feeling stupid and sad, isn’t it?

Because really, there are as many opinions as there are men, right? It’s not my duty to please everyone, and it isn’t even possible. The only solution is to be myself. Only then can I find people who actually care. Those people are the ones who matter the most.

Screw everyone else.

These Chapters

Words always meant a lot to me

But these ones seem to weigh me down

But they lift me up at the same time,

And I love them too much.

These words,

Which have been woven

From the threads of memories

Of these ten years

These words,

Which recount every moment

I thought I wasted

But ended up as an ethereal memory,

These words,

Which paint each one

Of those lovely, lovely human beings

I so vaguely call as my ‘best friends’,

These ten chapters,

I love them too much.

I don’t want to miss them.

I don’t want to turn the page.

Maybe I’m just too afraid

To reach the end of this book too soon.

And one fine day,

These chapters might burn away

Into nothingness, and eventually,

I will forget.

But right at this moment

I’d trade every page

In this book of my life,

Every memory,

And every second,

To read it all

And experience it all

Just once more.

Ambitions

When I was younger, I wanted to be a police-woman. I could go around arresting people and no one could arrest me because I would just arrest them back.

I wanted to build air pipes connecting Earth and other planets and shoo all our greenhouse gases into those planets. It wouldn’t harm them as it does us.

And then I went around telling people I wanted to become the President just to show them I could dream big.

Now, when I’m closer to all those dreams than I ever was, I don’t even want them.

All I want is to fulfill everyone’s expectations.

And they have such great expectations… They want me to reach such great heights. They know I will reach great heights. Their only worry is if they’ll live to see that day.

It would be so much more excruciating if you fail when everyone expects you to win.

That’s my only fear now.

And I have never felt more cowardly.

 

 

Huddle up, kids. Its corny story-time!

I’m experimenting with writing emotional stories. *grinning proudly*

I’m inviting everyone -who didn’t run away or leave this page after reading the first line, that is- to read my first story!

————————————–

I saw her crying today morning, hidden behind the towering rose bushes in fear of being seen by me. She wasn’t a woman who welcomed empathy, so I decided not to meddle. Moreover, I hated to be around weeping people.

She just can’t get over herself. People die. Others have to face the facts and move on with life. She can’t understand that.

Dad died about a month back. He got shot in his stomach while defending his tent during a bolt from the blue attack from the enemies. She cried a lot; I ran away into the woods nearby and screamed loudly until my voice became scratchy. That was it. No more drama from my part.

But mom… she was squeezing tears out of her eyes day and night, crying over his personal belongings from the army, his clothes, and the letters he wrote to her back when they were high-school sweethearts.

Dad always told me that I ‘wasn’t acting girly enough’ whenever I didn’t cry over things other girls sniveled over. I was weird that way. I’m like him, he said. He never cried.

I ignored mom’s weeping and walked back into the house. Sitting on the sofa, I pretended to read the newspaper until my mom came into the living room. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she smiled cheerily at me and went into the kitchen, coming out in a minute with a steaming mug of coffee to sit beside me. “You know sweetie, I’m not your daddy to fall for that.” She said, indicating to the newspaper in my hands.

I raised my eyebrows and said, “I read the news.”

She laughed. “Uh huh, Sure.”

We just sat there, absorbed by our own thoughts. “You know,” mom said unexpectedly, “Your daddy used to be Uncle Will’s best friend. He never showed much interest in me at first, your dad. At least, that’s what I thought! He was always obsessed with his guitar and his books. But then, when we got together, he wrote me this beautiful song and sang it to me. He told me that we would be together forever. It felt like I was flying high up in the clouds, sweetie. We were so happy! But happy… it can never last, you hear me?” her tone became irate, “Happy is like a warning. Never be too happy, for sadness is right around the corner, waiting to eat away everything you have left. You can never trust the existence of happiness. It can die so… so easily…” tears were splashing onto her already-damp cheeks. I closed my eyes, wishing for some sanity.  Finally, I couldn’t bear it.

“Mom, will you shut up?! Look here,” I shouted, ignoring her apprehensive eyes, “I’ve been trying to get a hold on myself for the past month and you have done nothing to help me. Get a grip, mom! He’s gone! GONE! No amount of bawling over all the trite promises he’d made can bring him back! I’m accepting that, why can’t you? Gosh, do you just have to make things worse for everybody? I’m fourteen and I’m okay with everything! Stop being such a nuisance and GET A GRIP. Otherwise, I’m just going to have to run away or something.” I stormed into my room and started reading a book.

She was a nuisance. What I’d done was right. She had to know what she’s been doing to me. Dad wouldn’t have wanted her to stop living just because he died.

My mom came in after an hour, her shivering hand holding a small piece of paper. “From… dad. He wrote it right before he- died.” she muttered. She kept the letter on my bed and quickly walked out. I frowned at the letter.

Debbie

I know you can’t stand all your mother’s tantrums, but don’t hurt her because of it all.

I love you so much, it hurts. The bullet doesn’t hurt me as much as thoughts about losing both of you does.  I know its clichéd and corny, but most truths are. Accept that and shed a tear or two now. That’s my girl!

Daddy

PS: Leave your mom alone. She just loves me too much.

And that’s when I cried.

——————————————————

The Twilight Saga: A pretty offensive review (at least, according to my mom)

So…I read the Twilight Saga.

 

 

Since nobody has killed me yet, I’d like to get on with it and say that I liked the first book.

I slept through most of the second book.

Hated the third.

And puked on the fourth. Literally, almost.

That just sums up everything that had anything to do with me and the Twilight series.

Or Saga. Whatever.

I’m supposed to write a review to have something to do, and I’m trying to find the right words for this…saga thing and its characters.

#1 TWILIGHT:

BELLA:  Responsible.

: Hapless

That’s all I’ve got.

 

EDWARD: weird, with an infinitesimal sense of humor.

: And pretty. Mostly pretty.

 

JACOB: some creepy story-teller kid with long black hair.

 

#2 NEW MOON:

BELLA: uh…MECHANICAL. And maddeningly melodramatic.

 

EDWARD: he leaves her, wants nothing to do with her, and tries to die for her in the end? Definitely weirded up.…But still pretty.

 

JACOB: still some creepy Indian kid who suddenly becomes a werewolf and catches mechanical-yet-evil enough-to-act-deprived Bella’s attention.

 

#3 ECLIPSE:

BELLA: definitely THE MOST SELFISH PERSON IN THE ENTIRE LITERARY UNIVERSE.

 

EDWARD: back to pretty. And caring. And icky.

 

JACOB: poor creepy kid who had the bad luck to fall in love with a selfish girl who wants to add him to her collection of mesmerized immortal lovers.

 

#4 BREAKING DAWN:

BELLA: for want of a better word, Bitchy(sorry mom) I HATE HER.

 

EDWARD: “I’ll do anything Bella wants. I just want Bella to be happy.” What an idiot.  Really pretty, but more idiotic.

 

JACOB: falls in love with the one-day old daughter of his first love? Um, weird alert.

 

COMMENTS:-

I’m not the kind of girl who blubbers and swoons over cheesy dialogues like “I don’t have a future without you.” Or “If I could dream at all, it would be about you.” Or God forbid, “Do you truly believe that you care for me more than I care for you?”

AAAAARRRRGGGGHHH.

Sorry. They give me the creeps, some times.

Anyway, so you could see how it was for me to read this novel.

My favorite character was Edward, for obvious reasons. It’s not only because he looks awesome in my head when I imagine him (though that’s a main point),  but he’s also this totally clueless puppy when it comes to Bella. It’s pretty fun to count how many times he says “Anything for Bella.” Or “If it makes her happy, I’ll do it.” I know he constitutes for most of the corny lovey-dovey dialogues, but I still like him.

My least favorite character was Bella, in case you didn’t notice the punctuation and the words I used. I think she’s selfish, somehow. And she keeps degrading herself; calling herself ugly when she knows she’s pretty and finding a microscopic fault in her looks even when she’s immortal and eternally beautiful.

Yeah. I like Jacob for his sense of humor in the last book.

This is my first series with icky stuff in it. I didn’t enjoy the last three books… or, more appropriately, I liked ONLY the first book.

Since I’m just repeating everything I already said, I’d like to stop now.

 

CORNY QUOTES:

You are my life now.

 –Edward Cullen, Twilight, Chapter 15, pg.314

 

I thought I explained it clearly, Bella. I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist.

Edward Cullen, New Moon

 

*cue vomit*

(PS: sorry if I offended anybody who’s a twilight fan. Sorry if the post didn’t explain how deep my feelings of hatred towards Bella and ‘Breaking Dawn’ are. It goes waaaay deeper)

By the way, A freaking year flew by.

So yeah. I’ve been blogging for a year now. *cue sarcastic ‘Yay me’*

And if my morale was any lower, it’d be drowning in the river Styx.

I started my new school year badly and I’m thoroughly depressed right now.

I smell you, Chandler Bing.

So anyway, I’ve been a little too preoccupied (with self-pity) to blog for the last month.

Wait. Am I being gloomy and awkward again?

I’m gonna stop writing now before my gloominess gets annoying.

Hope to write properly soon.

– Aswathy

Ignorance

It was a time

For butterflies

And flowers and stars

And rosebuds.

These joys

Could have lasted

Forever.

But they didn’t.

 

He was a dear,

Her idol.

He gave her candies and toffees

Even though she didn’t

Know him.

He told her

That he’d protect her always.

But he didn’t.

 

It was just

Another cookie.

A little circle of joy, which

Her idol had given her

Out of love.

She should have known

It was a trap

But she didn’t.

 

Everything was fine

As she ate her cookie

In his home, while her parents

Were away working.

She thought

He would give her more toffees

And take her back home

But he didn’t.

 

In minutes, his charming home

Was her prison

A torture chamber.

He could have

Taken pity

On the little girl

And stopped himself.

But he didn’t.

 

Her next cheery memory

Was in a hospital.

Locking horns

With death.

She battled to live

For so long

But in the end,

She didn’t.

 

The man

Her idol

Who shattered

Her smiles

And innocence,

Along with her being,

Deserves to die

But yet, he didn’t.

 

There I was,

A hundred miles away

Eyes glued onto

The computer screen

While everyone was protesting

Much later, when I knew,

I wanted to do something about it.

But I didn’t.

If Only

If only

I could break this jar

And release some fireflies

Into the world

To bring some warmth

To those little birds

Trapped in this

Undying blizzard

Dreading the moment

When they would hear

The echoes

Of fate’s words.

If only

I could break this jar

And release some fireflies

Into the world

To illuminate

These sinister nights.

And to show some light

To the ominous wolves

Enveloped

In this darkness.

Stumbling

In this fog.

If only

I could break this jar

And release some fireflies

Into the world

To shed light on the silver linings

And banish the dark clouds.

To make this harsh reality

A mere cruel fantasy.

To whisper the magical words

Which build a little fire

Inside every tiny bird.

And to change their cries

Into lullabies.

If only

I could break this jar

And release some fireflies

Into the world

If only

It were

Really

As easy

As that.

Just random info: Today, the 22^nd of April, apart from being a Monday and the first day of my summer vacation, also happens to be my birthday. I’m thirteen years old today.

And PS: please don’t take this poem in a literal meaning. You know, with the wolves and birds…

Regret

I don’t know why.

I don’t know why I told you something when I meant something else. When I wanted something else.

I don’t know why I was always deceitful to your abilities, criticizing outside and admiring inside. Lying about your talents in fear of seeing a silhouette of a superior person than me in you.

I don’t know why I discarded your offers, rejected your affections and crushed your love. Giving you hope and later wrecking it. Setting fire to a candle waiting to see it melting into nonexistence, slithering towards its end.

I don’t know why I loathed you whenever you unveiled your deepest affections. For me, hatred was like pulse. When your affections ran away with you, it would increase for me.

I don’t know why I kept giving you excuses and blaming you when both of us knew that everything was my fault. I was trying to trace a little ray of imperfection in your being, which was bright as the sun and pure as an untouched flower.

I don’t know why I let you go with a smile when I craved for you stay. Forever and always, like the eternal scent of flowers in the vale.

I don’t know why I am guessing the answers for all these questions which I’m asking myself because you never asked me. Trying to arise some sense into this muddle of unfair truths.

I don’t know why I’m writing all this when I know that you will never read it. All I know is that I want to say one last sorry.

Sorry for the crimes I’d done; sorry for the words that came tumbling out of my mouth; sorry for the lights I shattered in your life, making it a sinister tunnel from a bright star; sorry for crushing the reality out of your form; Sorry for lying about your inexistent flaws; sorry for the hope that I gave you, only to be wrecked by me later; sorry for ever trying to slither into your life

And especially, sorry for not saying sorry when you were with me, alive and breathing.

Miles To Go

There’s a place far away

Where the dewdrops

Aren’t made from tears

And the night skies

Aren’t made from dark smog

And the tints in flowers

Aren’t blood smears

There is a place far away

Where time

Isn’t a measure of eternity

Where happiness

Isn’t like the tides of seas

Where memories don’t evaporate

Like fraternity.

There’s a place far away.

Where greed and envy

Are not found.

Where harsh elapsed words

Stay forgotten

Where love is forever

Like the breeze’s sound

There’s a place far away

Where everything

Was perfect

And still is,

Only and only because

It’s far away

 From here.