Beautifully Broken.

       This post is in continuation of 'The Naked Soul'       

I fell in discussion with a friend over falling in love with a broken soul. And this was after he had read 'The Naked Soul'. Off lately, he has been getting over this girl he thought was ‘’the’’ one until he found out that she was a divorce and was too ‘damaged’. Yes, those were the exact words. I got offended but then I became sure that he had been so perfect in his life that imperfection/ brokenness gave his soul a shiver. So I told him a few facts; facts of loving a broken soul. And he somehow could not speak while I told him how it was the most beautiful experience to fall in love with one.


‘’It isn’t about just loving her. it’s about teaching her that she did not deserve what happened to her in the past. Respect her brokenness. She never wanted to meet someone who could point out her flaws. Neither was she waiting for someone to put her back together. She learned to love herself the way she wished other people had. She learned to own her flaws herself, the one’s she used to reject. She learned to have confidence in what is broken, not letting what could be missing in her life, define her.

You don’t have to save her. Instead, run your fingers along her sharp edges and show her it doesn’t have to hurt. Show her that there is someone who will stay, even when the sea is rough, times are hard. Show her it doesn’t matter what happened or with who, what matters is that she is still alive and more beautiful than ever and the two of you are there right now.


Teach her that she can trust someone other than herself. Because until now she’s been the number one person she can rely on. Teach her that not everyone will hurt her. Teach her that not everyone will leave. In return, she will doubt you. She will question you and second guess things. She will want more than anything to run the other way. Don’t let her. The only reason she is running is because she wants to beat you to it. The only reason she’s running is because she wants to look back and finally see someone chasing her.


But trust me when I say she’s worth the effort. Because once she trusts you, she’ll love you harder than you ever thought someone could. She’ll redefine what you thought love meant. You’ll meet her and you’ll never be the same.
 
So before you take on the challenge of loving someone broken, ask yourself, ‘are you willing to endure everything that comes with it?’.

But most of all you should ask yourself, can you appreciate a woman like her, and more importantly, can you love her the way she has always deserved to be loved.? Ask yourself these questions and then my friend, if that broken soul does not still make you stop thinking and just loving her, then no my friend, you are not worth her.


You are not worth her brokenness."

B-72; The Seventh Floor Heaven!

'LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, WELCOME TO PUNE. OUTSIDE TEMPERATURE IS 38DEGREES AND HUMIDITY SKY HIGH! THANK YOU FOR TRAVELIN WITH JET AIRWAYS. HOPE YOU HAVE A PLEASANT STAY IN PUNE. WE LOOK FORWARD TO SERVING YOU AGAIN.'

38degrees! Yes, that is how we were welcomed in Pune. We, me & dad and my newbie roommate, along with her father. Pune is known for its crazy student crowd and maximum of youngsters, college freshers. We took a cab and got the college/ hostel. I remember asking my dad that please make sure that there is no system of one common loo for the girls, on one floor. My ‘to-be’ roommate, the one with khaki pants and black shirt and the vibe of ‘I do not give a F**k’, kept giving me the look which I could decode so well ‘’ god!  She is so fat! I can barely see her collar bone. Damn! I am stuck with a wannabe behenji”.

Yes! That is what I could sense and I can say it with conviction because she told me once, later in life, after 2-3 drinks down. And I am sure she would be laughing her ass off right now reading this. Ankita my friend, I love you so much!

Moving forward. So here we were, in the City of confusing road names and rude auto drivers. Ok. Maharashtrian came across as a very rude language to me in the beginning. We, Punjabi’s were assumed to be loud and brash but I was wrong. The auto drivers in Pune were nothing less than rude and brash. And somehow, when you go to a new city, the residents start looking at you as aliens and so think you are fools from the third world and start mistreating you by merely charging extra tariff. Like what? Somehow we managed to hire a cab and reached the campus.

Pimpri, the name of the urban town (read TOWN). The name gave me giggles. Even Ankita had that smug on her face. Gosh! That was a relief. We sort of had similar kind of sense of humor. I sighed and got off the taxi after it finally stopped in front of the hostel. I could see a lot of taxis and auto rickshaws parked outside the hostel. It was moving in day for the class of 2006. And guess what? You turn around and there it was, my College! yes! Right outside the hostel. I mean we barely had to walk 20 steps to be in the college premises. Nice! No worries of low attendance now.

A Maharashtrian woman,  clad in sort of a silk saree seemed of age 40+ welcomed us

at the gate. She was the warden. And she did give away the crooked warden vibes. I and Ankita exchanged that look ‘dude, we got to stay clear of her’. Agreed. We had to. She had a co-warden, junior to her, another silk saree clad lady stepped in and she was nothing like her. Short and stout she was and had the most welcoming smile. I was happy seeing her. ‘’ the seventh floor is where all the first years will be staying for this year’’, the ‘not so friendly’ warden said and pointed us towards the lift. The hostel had 7 floors and two wings, A & B.

B 72. This was going to be our ‘address’ for the next year. We saw the room, chose our beds next to each other and started unpacking. Meanwhile, our parents went shopping for things we required in the room. The was room to be shared by 3 girls. So I had another judgemental character to deal with. Oh yes, I thought Ankita was judgemental and high headed and thought I was from some low life city until next morning came and my myths about her were crashed!

The next morning, we had an orientation for the new M.B.B.S batch @ 9 am. I woke up early and took a shower before she woke up. I had to pray before I stepped out that day, my first day in med school. I was making my bed when Ankita woke up, she looked at me and gave me a wide-eyed look once she saw I had bathed and was praying and making my bed. She gave me a very empathetic smile (like oh!  So you do this also types). God, I hated her guts. She started humming some Nirvana song and went into the shower. And the next thing I hear is a scream! She screamed her lungs out! I was like what the hell! The bathroom door opened and she came running outside, saying there was a ‘tiddi’ (the weird insect that springs at you/hops actually) and she was scared of such insects. Oh my lord! I rolled on the floor holding my stomach. This girl walked in singing Nirvana and came out screaming over an insect! Hahaha. Well even I was scared of such weird creatures, still am. And so is she, right Ankita? I did nothing but hugged her first. I was so happy to know that she was nothing but like me. My joy knew no limits. Then we both went in and crushed that insect. Can never forget the sigh of relief on her face. It was like some serial killer was stalking her and we put him to death.

This was my roommate. Crazy, funny, hard rock and heavy metal music lover, who dreaded insects, just like me! I was dancing in my head. But wait, we were not the only crazy ones.

Our door knocked and there she was. A pretty, suit-clad girl, with hair straight as a pin, neatly held by that pink band. She was our girly girl third roommate. Well, we definitely took her by surprise by all those screams and laughter. She smiled and introduced herself, ‘’Ruben. Ruben Bhasin, from Chandigarh’’. Wow! I was jumping with joy. One crazy and the other from my hometown!! Wow! M.B.B.S was going to be fun.

B 72 was to become The Home of the CRAZY'S! 

 

 

 

---

 [Nk1]

The Naked Soul

It's past midnight and you stand and gaze at your body reflected in the mirror before you. The body you just gave away again, even though you knew, you knew he wouldn’t stay. He never promised he would but his deep gazes that locked yours and gave you the belief that he would stay.

You knew he wouldn’t stay.

Your eyes trace the places on our skin where his fingers burned against you as he whispered futile promises upon the hungry needs of your neglected heart. He promised to your naked body- but cared not for your naked soul. You knew he wouldn’t stay. He wasn’t meant to. None of them were.

Yet you lie there still, with your heart beating heavy, in that ocean of maybes and what If’s. what if he craves for your body? And is he does, maybe he will ache for your soul too, someday. Maybe the way he traced your curves, your flesh, he will trace the lines the nerves of your ambition, hopes and dreams make. What if you give yourself away one last time, he will be the one to answer the question that has consumed your heart since your eyes glowed with the brightness of that dress your father got for you on your first birthday--am I lovely?

For this is the eternal mystery you burn for. This question you have. You seek an answer. To know your worth. The time it would take for someone to trace not your curves but your soul, and to fall in love with it. To know you are worth more than just a naked body. To be cherished, loved, valued and protected. For this is what you yearn. To feel, once again, completely and utterly lovely. Mesmerizing.

But where did you go wrong? What did you do wrong when you twirled in that dress your father got? What did you do wrong when you paraded in your high heels with kohl laden eyes and a loud lipstick? Why did your question not get answered? It was never answered as you traded your inner pure soul for this dress up world. You wore loud colors because this world could not stand the sober shades of your soul. You strived and struggled to get noticed. But you missed noticing your own reflection. 

You never realized how lovely you are. How much you are worth. And so you give yourself away in the hope he will answer your question. In the hope that he will find you lovely. In the hope that someday, somehow, the imprints of his finger upon your skin will bridge that void in your soul.

But why would he? He never promised to stay. No one does. and once again you are left alone, rummaging through the pieces he left of your naked soul.

But only if you could see.

If only you could see how lovely, you are. How your eyes carry the glow of a thousand fireflies. The way the smile breaks into a childish laugh before. The way your eyes guard your soul. But, they are so deep that if someone had the courage, could see your soul right through them. If only you could hear how your laughter fills the room with a chorus, a chorus that enlightens others’ souls. The smile which could mistake you for a child but also know the art of seduction. The enchantment of your deep thoughts. Your heart, with all its intricacies, brokenness and uncertainties is exquisite, rare, invaluable.

Maybe nobody ever told you. But I’m telling you now.

Do not give yourself away to find the answer to your question.

The answer is already there, staring back at you. You are lovely. Lovelier than you will ever know.

So, wait for the one who falls in love with your naked soul. The one whose eyes will lock your gaze for eternity.  The one who will see way beyond your flesh. Wait for him, for he will memorize the moments when your smile would break into a laughter or your eyes fill up with tears as you hold your belly as it hurts. He makes you laugh so hard. He would memorize the quickening of your heartbeat, hold close the rhythm of your breath. He will hear your unspoken words, dust the dreams and hopes hidden in your dark corners, and trace his finger along the stories you keep beneath your flesh.

Wait for him—but not because he is worth it. Because you are worth it, and more.

The Girl who always smiled.

Has there ever been a moment in your life that you are not really ‘Okay/fine’ but pretend to be because you are the girl who always has it together, figured out, is always ‘Okay’ and so, no one really takes a good look at that ‘fake’ smile that you got. Has this ever happened? if yes, then you would know how She felt at times. 

She was the girl who’s always smiling, people don’t care to ask if you’re okay. They always assume that she was fine because her smile fools them every time. The smile that lightens the room she walks in, the smile that just makes people forget that she was hurting. No one knows that sometimes a smile is the only way to hide your pain and sometimes it’s the only way to show that you’re not broken inside. 

She was the girl who’s always smiling, people thought she doesn’t feel anything. They think she’ll always forgive them and move on. They think she’ll always forget. But they  mistake that smile of her. itdoesn’t mean that she remembers nothing. That even meaningless jokes get to her. That her smile is a sign of her sensitivity and the vulnerability she has been trying to curb. Yes, she is vulnerable at times. But she still smiles. She is the girl who’s always smiling and they pay no heed to the fact that behind that smile flows a river of tears and river of painful stories. She has baggage, just like anyone. 

She tries not to lament over her past but, the misinterpretation of her smile made her sad. Who was she fooling? People think that she’ll always smile no matter what happens. But they never go home with her and watch her cry herself to sleep. see her letting her guard down and expose her vulnerable side to the four walls. Those four walls of her room knew she was not faking her smile or her tears. The four walls had become her place. The place where she felt safe, like herself as she did not feel the urge to pretend. 
She, my friends, was not smiling as she was not okay. 

 Picture credits: Khushboo Sahrawat Balhara. I Love you for capturing the moment so well.

It was Time to Fly!

                                                          29^th June, 2006.


It had been almost two months that dad came back from Pune after completing my admission requirements for M.B.B.S.It had been two months that I was waiting to leave home, for the first time and fly away. Like literally take a flight and ‘fly’. Also, it was going to be my first ever air journey. For the Very First Time I was going to be living without parents, with new people (girls), in a hostel, new city, leaving North India. All of this for the very first time! So it was the time for a lot of new events to happen. Time to make new memories. I was super excited. Though the thought of leaving home did haunt me every now and then my happy excited thoughts would get clouded by gloominess. The thought of leaving Ma was more saddening. My Brothers, 2 and both younger to me, had never been without their elder sister. They kept ‘fake’ celebrating getting my room, the bigger and the one with the pretty French Window, but it was Me who could sense that those big smiles and loud words were doleful. I was the only one who could not get fooled by the blank look on their face when Ma mentioned that I should start making a list of things I would need to pack and take along. That look made me sad. But, time was changing and change 
is inevitable.


Packing. I hate packing. Though a lot say that packing should be fun as it gives you that ‘kick’ that you are going somewhere. You would be traveling. So it should be fun in comparison to unpacking which, is sad and no fun as the fun is over, the vacation ended and you are back. Well, I agree with all that debate but, I still do not like packing. It is just too much work. Organized work. And then everyone, especially Dad, who would stand on my head and point out that I over pack and that I should always travel light. Travel light? I was under the impression that the big huge steel machine, the Aircraft, was supposed to lift my luggage. So why ‘travel light’? I was not trekking my way to Pune. Well, all these thoughts are a proof that I hate packing. By the way, I really do not know how to travel light. Footwear is what takes up the maximum place in my luggage. Always. But, there was no running away. I was 19 years old and was leaving home to live an independent life so, I had to pack!
My fight was on 29^th June, 2006. I had a week left. 

There was lot of paper work to be assimilated, my certificates and mark sheets and the admission forms. Most of it was taken care by dad but I was supposed to make a final check list. So I did. It was done. Now came the time to meet my friends and family. Back then, I was not much of ‘meeting friends and going for lunch’ kind of a person. Also, I did not have much friends too. The one’s I had, were also busy with college admissions and most of them were moving out of Chandigarh just like me. There were days when mom used to make me sit down and talk about how life would be different now that I am moving out, how I would be responsible for all my actions and also, about finances. Ha! Have always been a spend thrift, and now practicing mending my ways *ahem*. These rounds alternated with dad and his talk over being wise and all serious about my studies as I am going to be the First Ever Doctor of the Baahia family so, I got to make them proud. Aah, what pressure man. It was too much for me. I could feel the Goosebumps but then, was too excited to get worried/tensed. I WAS GOING TO COLLEGE!  and then there was the excitement to travel by air for the very first time, to board a plane for the first time, time to get food served at above 20,000 feet off the ground level. The feeling was enthralling. And now that I have had so much of air travel in my life, the excitement hasn’t aged. I still look forward to the odd timings of travel to the airport, the hustle outside, the tears of the family members biding adieu to their loved ones, the uncontrollable excitement of the one’s waiting on their friends/family to come out of those gates, the air has a mix of flowers, sweets and all these feelings; needless to mention the long ques of cars and the police watch guards guiding them away. I love all of that about airports and traveling by air.


The day had come. I was all packed, clothes and memories and promises. Mum tried her level best not to cry but common, a mother ‘not’ crying while seeing her daughter off is just something that goes right. Right? Brothers were busy loading the taxi that was going to take me and dad to the Delhi Airport. Before I stepped into the car, mum hugged me and said ‘’take care my doll. It’s a cruel world out there but you don’t have to be like everyone. Just be yourself and conquer the world’’. These were the exact words, just that she conveyed them in Punjabi. ‘Golden words’ is what I refer to them, even today. I hugged her tight, promising her that I would never let her down. Hugged and kissed my brothers, taking promises from them to take care of mum dad and Buzo (my German shepherd back then) and would excel in their school lives. And this is how I finally drove away, looking outside the window and waving till the time their figures became blurry. Blurry because of the tears I had. But I could cry in front of dad. ‘crying means you are weak, and you are not’. I disagree, yet again.


So there I was, Indira Gandhi International Airport, domestic wing, sitting outside the coffee shop, waiting for the boarding to be announced and also for my ‘to-be’ roommate and her father. Dad told me on our way to Delhi that when he had gone for my admission, he managed to get me a room with this Delhi based girl whose father my dad befriended during the admission. So we sat waiting for them. Delhi girl. And so I drifted in the deep thoughts of how she would be, will we get along or not. Now I am someone who makes friends very easily, but this was going to be like living with her 24*7 and god knows how that would be! And then I heard dad saying, ‘’ hello beta, this is Nimrat’’. And there she was, my ‘to-be’ roommate, dressed in khaki colored cargo pants and black shirt, hair tied up in a messy way and she had that walk that made me say this to myself in my head ‘’oh man! It is going to be one hell of a time with her’’. I was super happy! Had the wide grin, surely made her think I was retarded or something. Wait till I tell you what did she think about me when we met for the first time at the airport! Ha! It was hilarious! And then the boarding was announced.
‘’OK Pune, you better be good to me’’. Trying to calm myself, I boarded.


What next? Well I kind of fell in love with the City and my hostel in the first look. How? Well you got to stay tuned for that!

                      So see you on Friday!
                           #LOVEMUCH                                                         

There is nothing as ' The Perfect Time'.

                                                                        Hey, guys!


How was your Monday? Hopefully no Blues ;)


Now that you all are tucked in well and about to end your hectic Monday, this post is my way of conveying that I would be posting stuff on alternate days from now on. So the next post would grace your screens on Wednesday!



Also, today I experienced something very unpleasant and so thought about sharing it with you all. I experienced the never dying urge of getting things right. You, me and anyone for that matter, we all are in this race of a life to achieve ‘correct things’. And in this race to achieve the best, we forget so many things.

We forget that it might be better if they go wrong, it might be better if we don’t know it all if we don’t always say or do right things.



Maybe this is why we get heartbroken. So that we can learn to love again, so we can learn to love better, learn to differentiate between those who love us for who we are and those who love us for what we can do for them. Maybe this is why we lose people we love. So we can learn to appreciate people instead of taking them for granted, so we can learn to forgive others so we can learn that life is too short and that people don’t always stay as long as we want them to and that sometimes our fears can stop us from taking a chance that could change our lives because we don’t always get a second once.


Maybe this I why we fail. So we can find something we can be great at, so we can stop settling for things that are not meant to be for us, so we can fight for our future and find our potential, find our passion and find what truly makes us happy. Maybe we fail so we can start over and write a new story with a better ending.


Maybe this is why we make mistakes. So we can learn that we’ll never be perfect no matter how hard we try so we can understand that some things will always be out of our hands, out of our control, so we can stop worrying so much about the future or lamenting over the past. So we can understand that we’re born to figure things on our own, till the time we have to hit the grave, and that means making less than perfect decisions and learning things the hard way.


Maybe the wrong things are not so wrong after all? Maybe they’re so right for us but we don’t want to believe it, maybe they’re exactly what we need but not what we ‘want’ and maybe they’re just reminders that better things await us and that some wonderful things can come out of failure and out of pain.


So stop waiting or the ‘right’ moment, the ‘right’ kiss, the ‘right’ man/woman, the ‘right’ dress. Just go for the ‘not so right’ one and see it turning out to be the best! Even better than best. But how would you know? Only my giving it a chance.
Stop trying to make things ‘right’. Imperfection/ flaws make the best of scars (read memories).
Love.


P.s: See you all on Wednesday with my first ‘Pune; the city of Friendship, Love and Deceit’ diary excerpt.

                               HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU ALL LOVELY PEOPLE!
                                                                MUCH LOVE

T.G.I.M

                                      Hello and a happy Monday to you all!


So, how was your weekend? I am sure some of you must have replenished your energy level by sleeping while the rest must have gone away with family, friends or loved ones for a spa getaway. Well, spa getaway does sound refreshing. Maybe I will plan one for myself, soon. *wink*

Well, I had a busy weekend, studying. Yes. Had a guest faculty visiting our campus to deliver a lecture on Survival Analysis. Well, It’s just me who knows how I ‘survived’ through that! *eyes rolling*. For all those who have nothing to do with Data analysis and Research (even I do not like it, but it’s a very viable part of my course. So, I am sticking by it), it was about a series of methods used to analyze data. Yes, I am choosing not to speak any further about it. *boring/nerd alert*.

So, I did come up with a long list of topics I would love to write about and ‘Monday Blues’ is one of them. just because you noticed, the color of the text is so because I love the color but hate the Blues of Monday!

What are these Monday blues?  Monday/morning ‘blues’ is an expression describing the immense sad/ depressing feeling you get when you wake up in the morning, more horrifying if it’s a Monday morning, and thinking about all the work you have to do for that particular day/week. The term Depressing here is nothing like actual ‘depression’ as being a doctor I can say it with an assurance that, depression is unhealthy. I have seen such people, dealt with them and was successful in treating some as well. So, next time when you think you ‘feel’ depressed, kick yourself virtually!
So yeah, Monday blues are definitely the worst as you wake up after a relaxing weekend to face an agonizing week. Your body cringes, muscles ache, everything seems dull and morbid. Yes, I just described the symptoms of Monday blues.

In school, it was different. At least I enjoyed Monday mornings then, unlike the other students in my class. The Monday assemblies were best. Our Principal, Mr. Harold Carver, (my idol and I can write so much about him and what I admired about him to consider him as my idol) would address the school with a very refreshing quote/ a story from his own life. I loved his voice, crisp and would make even dead alive. He was strict, disciplined but the warmth in his smile and eyes gave away many times when he tried screaming at someone. Still, people were scared of him and that too in a good way. Not like some cruel unruly principle. Oh, I miss being in school.

And then came college. And oh lord, I saw a different side of me then. I hated Mondays in college. Because Mondays meant early morning, I mean 8 am early morning lectures! Who keeps a lecture at 8? Who? But it was the harsh reality of being in Medical college. I hated Mondays then. I had become a night person (read an OWL) in college, thanks to the caffeine intake to keep me up from reading Biochemistry <yuck>. So early mornings were not really my thing anymore. Also, I was fat. A slob who weighed 86kgs loved loading herself up with all sorts of greasy food and absolutely hated someone trying to ask her to try losing some weight, mostly by a polite gesture of asking my company for an EARLY MORNING WALK! But I did transform into what I am today, in college only (means losing almost 30 kg’s). Well, that’s another story I would come up with in once I start with my series of short stories from ‘Pune, the city of Love, Friendship and Deceit’

And then there is present me. I go for a ‘’run’’ at 6:30 in the morning. Even when it was crazy ass winters, I did. I have been into working out for almost 8 years now and I LOVE IT. I even go for a run after sleeping for 4 hours, or no sleeping at all (at times. Trust me). Working out gives me a crazy rush, it becomes that perfect noise to keep some of those saddening thoughts, out. So now I do not have Monday/morning blues anymore.
I love mornings. I love new beginnings. A new day gives me hope that life is still on, despite how majorly I tried messing it up, I am still alive and kicking its butt! So yes, I do not have any more morning blues. But do you? 

Let me know what bothers you more, the work/study pressure that awaits you for the day/ week or just a new beginning? Because I am sure, new beginnings do not really bring anything wrong, to anyone.
  
So get up and get kicking! Kick the slumber and sadness out and move ahead with the day. If nothing else, then think of the weekend that will come after Friday! *wink*

Much love!

Sleepless, but not in Seattle.

I know this is the second post of the day and that is not what I do but, I am going to take the weekend off for getting some pending research work done with and also, to dust off my old diaries for you all. So, go ahead and enjoy this last post for the week, last post of my first week of Writing. It feels super!

The following post is a real time excerpt from my diary. Illeism, the act of referring to oneself in third person instead of first person, is not really my pick of writing style but have always wanted to try my hand on it.

Enjoy.

                         Sleepless, but not in Seattle. 

 

 It was 2 am. That is 2 hours after she wrapped up her day’s work, got into bed, plugged in some soothing music and drifted into the darkness of that cubicle of a room she had been living in for the past 5 months. She had recently moved to this new place for further studies and moving to new places always excited her. She was excited to be here. Amongst new people, people from all possible corners of India and even Neighbouring Nations. She was astounded to be amongst these people and making new friends. She loves making new friends. settling in was easy as she had been living in hostels a lot and adjusted well almost everywhere. But she had a problem sleeping in new places, new bed. It took her a while (read 15 days) to finally get into the new ‘zone’ and get good sleep.
But today, after being here for almost 5 months, she again can’t sleep. Working out for 3 hours in a day should have made her tired, but no. she could not sleep. Even reading did not help, neither did that waste of money soothing tea. She had started dreading night time. It’s not like she got enough sleep in the day that kept her up all night. She just could not sleep.

It was 2:40 am now. The bird that nested outside her window, kept making some kind of noise. She thought maybe that wasn’t letting her sleep. the next day, she got the nest shifted. And that night, she was wide awake, yet again. She laid there still, with her eye mask on but eyes wide open under that. She knew something wasn’t right. She wasn’t fine. ‘’pray’’. She heard that voice in her ears and so, she started praying. Someone said that praying calms you down and so you drift into sweet slumber. So she did. For almost 20 minutes. And how did she know 20 minutes were gone? Because she could not sleep. she took her phone and messaged 6 most trusted contacts/friends on her WhatsApp list, hoping one of them would be up (she even messaged the ones’ in different time zone. Desperation.) and that someone might help her believe that it was all okay and that things would be fine and that by not sleeping she is just making no progress.

Yes. Things were not fine and she knew it but, Confrontation was not one of her strengths. She knew what was bothering her but by plugging in loud music helped to keep the daunting thoughts of being Lost, away. Music helped her feel okay. Yes, she was not ‘okay’ all the time, unlike her friends and peers and people who knew her, thought. She had her share of bad and worst days and these were one of those. She was not ‘okay’ and somehow, with time, she had become stubborn enough to even realize that herself that she wasn’t doing ‘fine’. Stubborn or irrational to her feelings, it was one of them. But she wasn’t sure which one was it but whichever it was, wasn’t helping her. Was making her weak, and sleepless. She had promised a friend for a run at 6:30 am next morning. And now at 3:30 am she finally realized that a run at 6:30 am won’t be possible. So, she messages that friend saying sorry and again lays back. Back into the silence of the night and her life.

‘’It will be alright. I am going to sleep. yes. I am sleeping now. Tomorrow is a new day and I shall make it worth something really awesome. Yes, I will.’’
And she slept.