Saturday, December 6, 2014


Once upon a time was a mad girl who wished she was slightly sane, to meet the society's standards of acceptable insanity. The sanity quiz told her exactly how insane she was, to three decimal places to be precise. It was a terrible one at that, some went insane just from taking it. What a horrid thing. When you are asked about yourself and you're at a loss words because the truth is, you don't know too much about yourself in the first place. So we lie and say we are sure about the fact that we're studying at this brilliant college, doing what we've always wanted to do and just a load of humbug with the excessive use of the pronoun 'we'.
But there's one thing we are most certain of of because this girl could tell you one thing in confidence and that she was exactly 93.43 percent insane. She'll boast that it's one percent less than last year and two less than the year before. There is one little detail she always chooses to leave out though. That she has never actually taken the insanity quiz. She always says the first number that comes to mind and hopes that people forget. Sadly, most people do. People don't care about the why in the way it matters but in the way it doesn't. They care about the number of zeroes written after a small number on a check but not the decimal places of one's insanity. She stood for what she believed in and fell for what was pushed onto her. The weight on her shoulders? She didn't even know it was there.
Every day, she'd wake up and come to terms with her made up number because she fears she might be worse off with the truth.
But one day they grabbed her and sat her down on the sidewalk. They flipped out their super sharp pencils and crisp white papers. They pushed the pencil into her hand and made her scribble her name at the very top and even the date to the left corner, like the teachers did. Not a second to be wasted, they said. So she scrutinized every question and filled out every answer. She darkened those little circles to absolute perfection to make any invigilator proud. Not a second to waste they said, as they grabbed the paper out of her hands and disappeared into the night. But what did the poor little girl do? Well, she dusted herself off and went home.
It wasn't too long before it arrived the mail. She opened it up and stared at the number printed at the center of the paper. The truth was much more than she hoped for. All those made up numbers could not do this one justice. She wept into her hand and the paper lay on the carpet. To two decimal places precisely. It told her she was zero point zero zero percent insane.
But why was she crying?
That's  because being sane is worse than being insane. You have no excuses to do all those ridiculous things.
Well that's all I have to say.
I hope that answers the question about why...
Wait. This is a multiple choice questionnaire?
Darn. Well, they're coming for this paper now. I've got to go.


(Stop. I have no clue. That's all I  have to say at this point. Bye.)

Reaching For The Stars

The bass drops and my fingers flit across the keyboard, typing sentences that barely make sense. Letters to words, words to sentences and here I have a jumble of thoughts that ended up making it onto the screen of your computer. It's a sad little evening in December. My toes curl up against the heater, my legs sprawled across the leather couch. A thousand things to do, ten reasons not to. It's far too easy to give up but all I can do is think about reaching for the stars in the middle of the day. There isn't a single perfect moment to leap into the sky. The stars always there, you just can't see them. So jump, leap, fly. You can't stop right when you want to.  This life is more than just a read-through.
It takes a long, long time to find what we want and I feel crippled by the thought, to get up and run. Looking for a miracle with my eyes closed. Holding onto things that have slipped away far too long ago. I'm done saying I'm done but not doing anything about. Enough.
I'm reaching for the stars in the daylight. Sometimes we forget that the Sun is in fact a star.  

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

The Quiet Place

"There was this person who attempted suicide by jumping off a bridge and the police were at his house doing whatever their job was. They found a note that said 'I'm going to go to the bridge. If someone smiles at me, I'm not gonna jump.' 
This is so important. You don't know if a stranger you passed by has been suffering from something or might even be going to kill themselves, this can save a life. don't care if people think I'm crazy, I'm gonna smile at everyone from now on."

 I found this a while back and it really got me thinking. This is a wonderful gesture and I think everyone should do it. Sometimes we're so caught up in what we see that we forget that everyone has a thousand things on their mind.  
It doesn't take much to make someone's day better. Who knows whose life you could be saving?
At first I had a pretty ignorant thought. I thought, look at all the people around me. It's not as if any of them are suicidal, they're all pretty well off.
But how would I know that? 
I don't.
No one deserves to feel like that. If we can do something to help, why shouldn't we?

I've met too many people through the internet who self harm to relieve their pain. They are all such wonderful, talented individuals who believe it's the only way to get through the hard times. It's all so sad and I wish everyone could be happy. 

A couple weeks ago I signed up for a website called The Quiet Place Project.  
People from around the world are on here and  it's all anonymous. They vent their feelings and thoughts to receive a little bit of love or because they feel like they don't have anyone to talk to.
I log in once in a while and try to advise them to the best of my ability.
It's quite refreshing and it's nice to get some help. 
Whoever is reading this, please take a minute to reply to one of the messages in the website. Give them some comfort and please remember, what goes around comes around.


Time Traveller

A couple years ago, when I first moved to this country, I was a little jet lagged. I'm not the type of person to fall sleep anytime during the day unless I'm very tired. (Even if I do sleep, I wake up very cranky)

So this particular day I slept sometime in the afternoon and woke up in my room with all the lights off. I could hear my family in the living room. Then I check the wall clock to see how long I've slept.
According to the clock, I'd woken up the previous day. I slept in the afternoon and woke up a couple hours before! First thoughts were that it was a faulty device so I opened the laptop. It had the same time. So I'd somehow gone back in time and woken up the previous day.
Already being so groggy, I was very confused and kind of excited.
I contemplated about what I should do with this knowledge. Pretty soon I came out and asked how long I'd been asleep. My Dad said that it'd been a couple of hours.

Figures that both the wall clock and laptop had been set to the wrong date and time.

That's as close as I've ever got time travelling, well that and travelling through a timezone.(You know, airplanes)

Friday, October 31, 2014

Bow Your Head

I'll be walking in a crowd with my head bent for no sensible reason. Head held high when I'm all alone.
A fascination with the cold hard floor when I'm just too afraid to look at a face for a second too long. Too caught up in what everyone else thinks.
They can see right through me and my poorly built walls. With every glance I feel like I'm disintegrating. But that sounds like such a foolish thing to say because no one really cares. They won't even remember me the next minute, so why am I still thinking about it?
I'm still here aren't I? Why's everything an internal conflict with me?
I can't stop whining about my materialistic problems and running my mouth off to people who honestly couldn't care.
I'll take a moment to look at all of my 'serious' problems and exactly how irreparable they are.

Well, I have no excuses. I know almost all the solutions and I shouldn't be worrying about the rest because it's not the right time yet.
So what's holding me back? What 's forcing me to bow my head down like I have something to be ashamed of?

I'm not sure.
That's a lie.
I know why.

It's because I know I'm not doing anything about my problems and it's humiliating. Even if they don't know, even if they never will. 

Friday, October 24, 2014

Weathered Pages

But it's so hard to explain how much these musty old pages mean to me. For the hands that held the book I now hold so tenderly belonged to those who have lived and died long before my time. You may think it's droll to hold onto these weathered books but there's a bit more that you do not know. For the impressions they have left across the pages hold untold stories that I wish I could hear. But I wonder if they would have been able to comprehend how such imperceptible marks could mean so much to me if someone had told them, so long ago. Would they have laughed at the absurd truth or worried about a time when they would cease to exist? These are the people I never had the honor of meeting for I have to settle for tracing the remnants of their legacy. They have walked this earth long before I, but what I share with them has now exceeded blood. I take the time to read the words, cherishing this connection I hold onto by a thread. For what I have is indescribable as I do not yet posses the ability to put these feelings into words. I hope for a day that my descendants may read these beautiful expressions and hold onto me as I hold onto them.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Of Francis Bacon

There are surely enough words in this plane to describe everything to utmost clarity. There must be! I just haven't found them yet. Devouring books seems absolutely wonderful but of course I have conditions. All my life, I've preferred fiction but I'm not sure it's getting me where I want to be. Francis Bacon had a hell of a lot to say about studies. Oh, the books to be devoured, the books to be tasted and those to be swallowed. But I think I've done a little too much devouring of the wrong things and have tasted a little too less of the right things. It's all so frustrating, this business of trying to grab at all this information. Who does Bacon think he is? Why should I listen to a man with such a comical surname? Should I put myself off as too simple of a person who is satisfied with admiring studies or am I on the verge of genius? Who is to say that maybe the socially acceptable standard of studies has changed. But the time spent wondering about such foolish things doesn't really help me much. So I prefer to look at the bright side of things like this. Rather than harboring hatred for a man who silently mocks me from between the letters on a paper, I chose to make silly jokes about Bacon and accept that he was only human. I have no doubt that if a man like him lived in this age, he would take it upon himself to make sure everyone knew exactly what was on his mind. Definitely a very annoying Facebook friend. But hey, who knows?
At the end of the day, I can sit back satisfied knowing that Francis Bacon wasn't amazing for every waking moment of his existence. Looking past all that's been taught in our classrooms, I now know that he was just like the rest of us. Foolish and struggling to live a good life. His death was somewhat absurd as well. While driving on a snowy day in London, he became inspired by the idea of using snow as a meat preservative. He purchased a chicken and while trying to stuff it, contracted a fatal case of pneumonia. It would have been more amusing if it was a pig though. I kid.
I've learned not to be intimidated by someone else's spotlight because we'll end up finding our place on center stage soon enough. 

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

When I Grow Up...

Imagine a small child in elementary school, with a bag filled with notebooks, crayons and bits of paper. They've just been asked to write about something very interesting. Almost every child has been asked this question and almost everyone has asked it. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" 
Oh, the endless possibilities. I wanted to be a librarian, teacher, artist, author, illustrator, veterinarian, gymnast, dancer, singer, actress or maybe a pianist. The list would go on for miles if I continued so let's stop at that. 
But I didn't want to talk about the past, I'd rather talk about the present. As you get older, people stop asking you what you want be when you grow up but instead what you want be, period. Well, you're all grown up aren't you?

No. I'm not. I may have grown tall and look old enough to make my own decisions. My birth certificate may shout to the world that I'm a major but I still have a lot of growing up to do. I still haven't found something to cling onto and hope for the best. I don't have a perfectly planned out future and I don't have my eyes set on something. 
I'm waiting for the day that I can stand straight and claim to be a perfectly capable young woman who knows what she wants to do in this world.
 Until then..

When I grow up, I want to be strong, independent, mature, capable, responsible, fearless, understanding, intelligent, successful, happy, witty and free. I want to grow into a better version of me.

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Sophomore: College

I'm no longer a freshman. Tomorrow begins my life as a sophomore in college. Things are going to be just as screwed up or just as nice. 
I saw a movie: Drushyam, today and it was alright-ish. Now I'm watching Kung Fu Panda on the tele and trying to continue reading "The Scorch Trials" by James Dashner. Tomorrow will bring forth an interesting turn of events, because I've finally been reshuffled to IT-F1 from F2. I no longer have to be associated with "the worst section" in college. Thank God!

I'm prepared in no way for what will happen tomorrow. I don't have a single notebook or even a portion of my outfit picked out. I'll just wing it. Who cares? Bleh.
I hate having to get dressed up all nice and put on a show for other people at college. I don't care about the people around me and much less what they think about me. I have no one to impress, just need to improve myself first. The thought of having to get up and pick out something to wear sounds so exhausting. I think I've become too accustomed to my uniform. I'd rather just wear that everyday than go through this torture. Damn it, if I could, i'd just wear PJs and a top knot, all day, every day.
"Long hair, don't care" Pshhh, more like, "Mulan style's the way to go".

Anyway, I need to get some shut eye to stay awake in class so I shall be going now.

For future reference about how I feel before my first day of sophomore year:

I don't even care, I just want it to end. I just want to get all this information in my head and not deal with all the bullshit and drama around me. So much to do, so little time. I'm not screwing it all up again. I'm going to work my butt off. I don't care if they call me a nerd, I don't care if they call me a bookworm. I'll just repeat the advice my seventh grade social teacher gave me. 
"The people you call nerd/geek will end up being your boss" (or something like that)

Tick tock, tick tock. Time's started running and I'm not too far behind. I'll catch up with the rest of them and they won't see me coming. ;)
I've got a lot to do, here I come! 

Friday, July 11, 2014

In a Nutshell

I was a wee bit hyper today so I rushed onto my balcony and yelled "who goes there?!" in this weird medieval accent with the curtails of my shirt held up like a cape. You know like those scenes in movies before the killer/monster/something, comes out.

A little kid on a pink bicycle with streamers on the handlebars rode past at the exact moment whilst ringing her bell.

I think this describes my life.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Unusual Personality Test: Perception of Life

One of the basic rules of this test is to write what you feel and what first comes to mind. It’s fine if you have the same answersto different questions. Do not read all at once! Read the questions one by one and do not rush. It will not be so interesting to see the next question if you are still writing the answerto the previous one. Well, if a pen and a piece of paper are in front of you, then let’s begin!

 **** The following are the questions, followed by my responses. The interpretation  of each is after the answer.****

1. You are peering into the sea, what do you feel? Focus only on your first impression. You can close your eyes to better feel it...

 I stand on warm, grainy sand that squeeze between my toes. When I look up, I see the waves lapping up against the shore. The sea is a cool blue. The light reflects onto it making it look like glass. I feel at unease with the sand at my feet, it's mildly irritating. But the water's too nice to worry about the sand. I want to run into the water and feel it rushing at me.

INTERPRETATION: Your attitude to life, emotions, sensations.

2. You are walking through the woods and look at the ground. Write down what you feel.

 I pass by small bushes and the forest floor is covered in leaves and sticks. The sun doesn't shine too bright because the trees form a barrier. Small rays of sunlight shine on certain areas; like spotlights. It's cool and the earth is damp. Goosebumps run down my spine. There's a fog in the distance that spreads slowly. I feel like I should be ready for something. Like I'm missing out on something very important. Not knowing is making me agitated. 

INTERPRETATION: The way you feel in your own family.

3. What do you feel when looking at flying seagulls? It's all right if in this case you make up a quick response.

I'm sort of disinterested really. But it makes me wonder if there's a waterbed of some sort nearby. I'm curious as to why they're here in the first place. As always, I want to fly. I'm excited at the idea of being able to fly.

INTERPRETATION: Your attitude towards women.

4. What about a herd of horses? Write the first thing that comes to mind, avoid thinking for too much time.

I feel like I'm free. The wind is whipping against me and my hair is flying about. I feel wild and absolutely free.

INTERPRETATION: Your attitude to men.

5.   You are in the desert, standing by the wall with a small hole, behind which you see the oasis. What are your actions? Don’t write just your thoughts and feelings, but focus on what you would do in this situation.

Is the hole an entrance to the other side of the wall. Is it on the floor or in the wall? If it's in the floor I'm too scared to crawl down it and  shiver at the thought of what lies in wait. If it's in the wall, I question whether the oasis is simply a mirage. Is it worth my effort to go through? The thought of water makes my mouth dry and I crawl through, unsure and desperate.

INTERPRETATION: Your basic life strategy and goal. The way you solve your problems.

6.  You are still in the desert, completely exhausted, and suddenly see a water jug. Once again, your actions are what matters in this question. Your answer may sound banal, but still write it down.

It might be a makeshift chamber pot and I don't want to die drinking that now. I tip the jug a little, but not to far, to spill a few drops into my palm to check if it's safe to drink. I lick my lips as my throat burns for water. I sip a little bit and gulp down a few more before I pick up on the taste, convincing myself it's all I have for now.

INTERPRETATION: How selective you are in sexual life. Choice of a partner.

7. You are lost in the woods in the evening and see a house with lights on. Write what you’re gonna do.

 I'm scared and I'm shivering. It's cold, too cold. I clench my hands together. This story isn't going to end well. I see the house and hope that there isn't a murder lying in wait for my entrance. I know it's better to canvas the house to get an idea about the occupant(s). I stay low and in the dark, trying to find my way around without attracting attention or being seen. I've seen too many movies like this, I don't want to die today. I decide I'll stay in the shadows and wait it out. I'll take lost in the woods over dying in a stranger's house any day. If some animal tries to kill me out here, then I'll run in. I lean back against a tree, keeping my eyes fixated on the house. 

INTERPRETATION: Your readiness for marriage.

8.  You’re in the fog. Once more, focus on actions and write down how you would behave. 

I'm afraid, tears well up in my eyes and I try to control my breathing; a failed attempt. Fear wells up inside me and I have a gut-feeling that something bad is going to happen. I'm reminded of driving down Pochantos Hill with the fog just above the tree tops. My ears pop and I'm frozen. I can't see anything. I look for some support. A tree stump, something to sit upon, anything. I frantically splay my arms around hoping to touch something solid. But still in fear of it being someone else, someone who might not be safe. 

INTERPRETATION: Your attitude to death.


I don't know precisely why but some of this made me kind of sad. Some of it is so true...

Here's the link if someone else wants to try: (sorry, too tired to hyperlink)!bhI:jlWfZPAe/

Tuesday, July 8, 2014


Does your heart flutter when you hear it? Do goosebumps run across your back, onto your neck and leave you shivering? Do fireworks explode inside your head as pure ambrosia trickles into your ears?
Turn the bass up, make my heart go boom. I like the music loud. I like feeling my heartbeat jump out of my chest and sync with the rhythm. You don't know why you're smiling but it feels amazing.
I always wonder how plain it must seem to someone who doesn't understand. Someone who doesn't have the pleasure of listening to these beautiful melodies.

Monday, July 7, 2014


She says I can't.
I say there's no stopping me now, thanks for the inspiration.
I glance up with a frown of concentration

I thought I was a tiny part in each of your lives. A fading background character that tries so terribly hard to hang on to the words on a page to make a difference in the story of someone else's book. I tried to pull myself up onto that ledge, to find a place on the center stage but the light shone too bright.
 I swung and tried to pull myself up to where everything begins; the rubble. I've never had the upper body strength or willingness to think that I could ever  really pull myself onto that ledge without help. It was a little too late to realize that there was solid ground just inches below. And before I knew it, I was falling. That's when the world went tumbling about, turning this way and that. Then it all caved in.
I woke up in emptiness; on pages so white that they could blind you. But for me it was pleasant to look at. Everything was empty and time seemed to hold its breath; waiting for  something to happen at almost any moment. But what?
Within my closed fist was an object. It pulled and tugged at my fingers trying to do whatever flying pens do of  course. It skid across the pages writing tales of lies and deception, mistakes and fakes, bravery and cowardice. It made no sense to me but I knew it was mine. For once, I had my place at center stage with the lights shining on me. This is my life, my world. My book.

Sunday, June 29, 2014


I'm like an object-oriented program.
Did you know that C++ is just C with classes. So you're C and I'm C++. I have class.

My life isn't an etch-a-sketch to practice your meager drawing skills upon. I've got this thing called privacy and the only way you're getting access to my life is if you actually play any part in it; and a good one at that. I've no use for redundant code and garbage values, so don't try to sneak up on me with your folly. I can delete and replace you with a click of a button. Do you know what happens to errors? They're corrected and removed as soon as possible. The best part is I have my own compiler, these brilliant people that let me know when a mistake comes creeping into my program. 

Okay, I'm done. I can't do this. I have an exam tomorrow and I'm freaking out. If I continue this, I might  write about C++ like it's an actual person. Can't do with that now, can I?

Oh. I've got something to share. 
When I'm intensely studying mathematics, I kind of stress myself out about the problems I get wrong. So once or twice till now, I've solved problems in my sleep. I kid you not.

I solved a problem in fourier transforms in my sleep the other day. 

Coolest or weirdest thing ever? Please let me know.  Does this happen to anyone else? 

Sunday, June 22, 2014


I want to sit still as nature surrounds me, envelops me and takes me with her. I'd like to fall back and lay there in the grass with dew drops tickling my nose. The roots stretch out to me and clasp me to the earth. If I lay here, will you remember to visit me again? As I fade into the ground and seep into the earth. Remember me as you walk through this path and try to understand how breathless I was looking at this beauty. Remember that I am now a part of it. I can feel myself turning into dust. Nothing hurts and everything lay still. I'll remember the day I left the one I love behind, so keep me forever in your thoughts and always believe.

Brought to you by: "Into Dust" by Mazzy Star
A writing exercise for

Rise Against

Shut up. Who cares what you have to think? I don't want to be here and I don't need to. Leave me alone and let me be. No one's going to recognize this face after today. Don't act like I matter to you when I'm just an excuse for leaving it all behind. I don't want to be left behind anymore. It's my turn. It's my turn to leave you behind. I'm finally ready to grow up. I'm not a child and there's nothing worth left staying for. Broken things can be brought back together but they'll always be rough around the edges. Like I am. I'm past my breaking point and here's the point of no return. Goodbye

Brought to you by: "I Don't Want to Be Here Anymore" by Rise Against
A writing exercise for

Buried Deep

I didn't know where I was going and I honestly didn't care. None of it matters. Nothing ever does. I want to keep walking until something actually does matter. A reason, a purpose. I have nothing. I'm a parasite living off of the people around me. I crave for their support and depend on them for everything. Maybe if I'm all alone I'll learn to fend for myself. How could anyone be like me? Is it evenly humanly possible to be so useless?
Imagine the world is at your hands and you sit back staring at it like it's not even there. As if someone is going to do all the work for you and put the result in your hands. That isn't going to happen and I know it too. That's the worst part. Knowing and still not doing anything.
I'm an ignorant person and I don't  use opportunities. Pretty soon they'll run out and I'll just be lying face down in the snow. Buried in my failures and what-ifs.

I am sick and tired of myself. No one's going to tell me right from wrong pretty soon.

I know I can dig myself out of this trench but I keep thinking I don't know how to use this shovel lying next to me.

Friday, June 20, 2014

The Truth About Engineering Colleges

Let me just start out by saying, It's okay. I understand. I've been there at one time or another.
I'd like you to remember your 10th grade when everyone said "Study hard till boards and then you can do whatever you want". And pretty soon after, 11-12th grades, "It's just two more years, after that you'll be in college. It'll be a walk in the park. Trust me!"
Then you join college.
Everyone: Well, just four more years of your life. Oh and by the way, these four years decide your life so don't screw it up. Okay have fun!

1. Ragging:
When you were in high school it seemed like you were king of the world as a senior. You were at the top. Oh wait, don't think too soon, here comes college. Boom. Sorry, you're a freshman again in this strange new place.
Here's the truth. You will get ragged. The only way that isn't happening is if you are literally invisible. Everyone has gone through it, so you must. It's like your birth right. 
"You shall be officially knighted as a college student only after being ragged at least once."
The recitation of the bio data is your initialization into this community. These seniors have bottled up every emotion they've felt from when they've been ragged by their respective seniors so the only way to let it go is by continuing the cycle. The most common ways of torture, er I mean "interaction"; you've got to stick to the code word, are bio data, enacting scenarios, singing, dancing, etc.

2. Confession Pages
As if the confession pages in high school weren't enough. All the same drama, sometimes even more so. There will always be those people confessing their love for that "supar cute boi" that is "so sweeeet nd innocent". These people always take the love at first sight thing way too seriously.
Here are some examples: (The grammar is scringe-worthy so I'll tone it down a bit)

"When I look at you, my heart beats a lot."
"Tears of happiness roll out my eyes, I feel your presence where you first stood in front of me"
"She/He is amazing. I fell at the first look"
"My princess, my queen. You're voice, hair, foot, laugh, smile"  ( Might have been over-exaggerating about the foot)
"(random section) is the best one. So kewl"
"Nobody likes you (random person)"

There are people talking about failing, fests, family problems and the most random bits of information that make absolutely no sense. You've got it all.

3. Records, Assignments and Seminars

Records: They sucked in high school and they still do. There's a lot to write and most of it isn't even important. 
So you've pulled an all-nighter writing 60 pages of your record? Cool, I'll just skip to the last page and sign it because it is too tiring to look at every page that you've painstakingly written. Sorry, not sorry.

Assignments: They expect you to carefully read the questions, find the answers and study them. What do we do? 
"Hey smart person, did you do the assignment? Cool, gimme" This is how an engineering student gets things done. Go with the flow yo. 

Seminars: Ooh. That word sounds all formal and important. You'll be asked so many questions and must be absolutely clear about the topic at hand. Right? Wrong. Nobody cares what you've got to say. They just want you to get it over with. 

4. Lecturers
They're nice, they're mean. Some are terribly unqualified while others sound like they're speaking gibberish. These people literally have your life in the palm of their hands. Is the teacher a reputed faculty member that the higher officials have a soft spot for? Have you pissed them off? Well, I hope you're okay with writing the supplementary exam.
Well for the sake of the nice ones, there are plenty of kind teachers. They always counter the sarcastic witty stuff we throw their way without getting angry. But then there are some people.
They think they rule this place and will make your life a living hell if you make the wrong move. They have their own personal minefield for students where they make your grades go booom.

5. Other Freshman

These poor suckers are going through the same stuff you are so bear with them. If you expect people to respect you and be mature, you are sadly mistaken. I'm not even going to go too into this or I might start listing out examples of types of people and that would make for a very very long list. In short; most of them suck. Have fun making friends! 
Note: There are definitely some lovely people but I say good luck finding them. 

6. Procrastination
Engineering students have mastered the art of procrastination over the years. It seriously is a wonder that there isn't a book written about it. Oh wait, procrastinating! It doesn't matter if it's the records, exams, seminars or supplementaries. We will look for the best time to do it and then not do it. Save for the last minute of course. Sometimes, not even then. Why do something today which you never have to do.

7. Engineering Drawing
Ah drafters. In the first month of college we received a list of stationary necessary for the drawing classes. I bought nearly every single one. And how many of those things did I use? Barely 3 out of 10. Wasting money on stuff I don't need? CHECK. 
If you've gone through the pain of a teacher striking something off on your sheet (that you've spent an hour on) with a pen, then I definitely know the feel. 
I know at least one person who has paid someone to get their drawing charts done outside of college. 

Thursday, June 19, 2014


So I anagramed my name to see what would come up

Stage 1:First name and Surname
"Nirvanas Bad Hmm Uh"
"Drab Humans Man Shiv"
"Bah Damn Varnish Rum"
"Brash And Human Vim"
"Barn Had Human Vims"

Stage 2: Middle name and Surname
Mahatma Ah Bird Horn
Hah Barmaid Moth Ran
Badman Hath Armor Hi
Mambo Hath Rad Rhino
Horrid Than Ah Mamba
Barman Had Hair Moth
Bah Madam Hair Thorn
Madman Ah Hair Throb
Madman Ah Hair Broth
Madman Hath Hair Bro
Madman Hath Hair Orb
Aha Bath Harm Nimrod

Friday, June 13, 2014

The Fault In Our Stars

I wish I knew the appropriate words to express exactly how much The Fault In Our Stars has an effect on me. I do not care about how many people criticize this work of pure brilliance. Words swam into my mind and painted beautiful pictures of  an amazing story. There's something about Hazel and Augustus. They are my favorite people. I want to be remembered in this godforsaken world. I need to live for something because life is way to damn precious to waste a second. I don't want to let this go.
Heathcliff and Catherine's love may be like the eternal rocks but that novel never really touched me. But I feel like I've lost Augustus Waters.
The wonderful combination of a couple of words make for the best novels. I've been looking for a "true friend" for a very long time but in this instant, I know there's one thing that I can always count on. I'll always have a book in my hand to keep me company. The made-up characters etched on these plain papers are my friends. I feared of being lost in a world that was make-believe but the truth is, I'm already lost in this terrible world. How lost can a person be? These books are my sanctuary.
I would put up walls and tear them down but now I lay down brick by brick of every sweet ounce of knowledge I get from these wonderful books. And that's all I need.

“Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book"- John Green

That's exactly how I feel about TFIOS. 

Saturday, May 31, 2014

A Visit To A Government Hospital

As part of my English project, I visited a government hospital last week to understand what it's like and well, just for the experience. I finished the written part of the project sooo here it is. 

There's something awful about the way hospitals smell. It's not just the chemicals and antiseptics. There's this sense of impending doom that hangs in the air. The Osmania General Hospital (OGH) is as malodorous as any other government hospital. It is one of the oldest hospitals in India run by the Government of Andhra Pradesh. It is also a training hospital for housing doctors specializing in medicine, surgery and orthopaedics. The other specializations are located in numerous hospitals around the city which are affiliated to OGH. The hospital has a number of buildings in which different departments and wards are situated. One of the buildings comprises of a blood bank, wards, labs and two separate canteens. The hospital was built in 1925 under the reign of the seventh Nizam. It was constructed during the City Improvement Board and it holds architectural styling designed by Vincent Esch. The canteen, verandahs and huge high-ceiligned halls are filled with people. Most of the walls are covered with missing posters for the patients who were lost in the hospital. It makes you wonder how many of them actually turned up again or if there was a reason for their disappearance. Given it's almost been a century since it's been built it surely is a wonder that the hospital still stands. There have been several attempts by the alumni of the Osmania Medical College to get the state government to upgrade the infrastructure but they have not recieved any confirmation as of now. 
The halls seemed to go on forever and would take an unexpected turn here and there. No matter where you were standing, there'd be at least one patient lying somewhere on the floor.  It's terrible watching someone in pain at an arms length away from you knowing you can't do anything to help them. An old man was lying on the floor of one such corridor with a variety of tubes attached to him and he lay there in the heat with his wife sitting protectively next to him. It's sad that only at moments like this we question ourselves about what we've actually contributed to the society. Should have, would have, could have. 
The patient intake; both inpatient and outpatient, consists of people from either the rural parts of the state or from the slum areas of the city. They can not afford to go to nice, air-conditioned institutions so they have to settle for the hard floor of a government hospital like this one. At times it seemed like everything was in utter disarray but I am in awe at the way the orderlies work around their hectic schedules and still manage to stay on track. Things might not move with clock-wise precision but they have a different type of routine that seems to work for them. Throughout the course of the day, I saw many instances where I thought things would definitely fall apart but were always taken care of. I presume this is what the saying "The only order in the universe is just a cycle of calm and chaos" means. If I had a heightened sense of smell then maybe I would have been able to differentiate between the various odours I came across but I had to settle for classifying them as just another foul odour. But then I decided that maybe it was best I didn't know what the smells were in fear of an involuntary gag reflex. 
One of the first things I saw was a metal trolley being pushed around by two men. They stopped in a ward next to a patient with an amputated leg. I wondered what was inside and they were open to the idea of me having a look inside their cart. Well who wouldn't want to appear inviting to  a stranger walking around with a camera? They lifted each lid on the food cart and I got to see what the patients were being served. There were four chambers in all for dal, sambhar, milk and rice. At the underside of the cart they had bananas and several cartons of eggs; an essential source of nourishment. Soon after that I saw a little boy walking around with a pot filled to the brim with rice with a single banana placed on top. Other than the humans in OHG, certain animals roam the corridors with complete freedom. The little creatures are at home under hospital beds or near the canteen looking for a bite to eat. Cats and dogs are usually seen lounging in one of the wards whereas the occasional monkey is shooed away by the attenders. 
The patient intake into the wards depends on the days of the week, such that each day represents a ward number. On a Tuesday patients would be admitted into Ward II. When I was inside Ward IV, I saw tins filled with lots of capsules. All the wards have free medication and glucose solution in stock for the patients; available to them free of cost. I saw a few of the people sitting on the floor with their plates of food without a worry. 
I learnt that there are certain factors to be considered before being admitted into an Intensive Care Unit or another one. Depending on the levels of severity a patient could be submitted into the Intermediary Emergency Care (IEC) or ICU. There's also a Intensive Coronary Care Unit (ICCU); not to be confused with ICU, which is a ward specialized in the care of patients with heart attacks, cardiac, dsyrhythmia and other cardiac conditions. At the blood bank I was shown the different freezers where the blood is kept. There are a series of processes that are involved in the testing of the blood, each of which has a designated freezer. There were doctors moving around with peculiar looking apparatus in the serology lab. I also learnt that if there is an emergency case and a patient requires blood immediately, it's taken from the blood bank but their share must be returned within the next five days without fail; possibly from one of their family or friends. 

Little kids looked into my camera with eyes full of wonder and adults looked confused and curious. But the ones lying on the beds could  only give me eyes full of sorrow and I could only empathize with them for a few seconds because I couldn't bear to look any longer. I felt like I was snatching away bits of their lives without asking permission when I could not even provide them any solace. There was a story behind every single set of those eyes and they sung out to the heavens about their unfortunate instances. Each of them seemed to be screaming inwardly and could only slump back across their cold beds waiting for what seemed like forever. There were men, women and children but they were mothers, fathers, daughters and sons of someone. They each had a tale but none were whispered in my ear.  

Thursday, May 29, 2014

The Art of Kintsukuroi

When the Japanese mend objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something's suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.
I'm chipped and cracked inside, wouldn't it be nice if someone filled the spaces with gold? I want to be that beautifully broken thing.

Sunday, May 18, 2014


When I was in sixth grade I wanted to be a gymnast, my sister a ballerina. But I never told my mother just how badly I wanted to be one. So she joined my sister and I at the dance studio for ballet classes. I was quite upset and would stare at the gymnasts with wonder every time I had a class. One day, I thought, I'd be like them. But in spirit of using opportunities, I forced my attention towards ballet. I was older than all the other kids in the class because of my mother's request to be put with my little sister. I remember buying my first pair of ballet slippers, a leotard and pink tights. It was wonderful and frustrating at the same time. The classes commenced soon enough and the trainer was definitely a little harsh on us but kind. Pretty soon I came to love putting on my armor and dancing everyday. I know it might sound vain but I rocked that class. I was a natural and everyone knew it. There was a camera placed on the far end of the wall for the mothers to see us dancing from the other room. I know everyone has seen at least one dance-related movie in their lives. It's a dog-eat-dog world. The mothers wouldn't stop praising me and couldn't stop shaking with jealousy, it was clear on their faces. They loved me so much that they hated me; if that makes any sense. My pirouettes, demi-pliés, demi-pointes, grand jetés, grand plies and god knows what else were nearly perfect. Then came recital season and the instructor came rushing in with catalogs for tutus, ballet shoes and excessively pink everything. It was not something we could afford and it came to the point where the classes were unaffordable as well. So we dropped out and one day they closed the dance studio too. There ended my chance at every persuing the idea of being professional ballerina. After brief coaching in tennis, volleyball and lacrosse here I am today. You know that saying jack of all trades, master of none. I surpassed that by being talentless, ambitionless, incompetent and stupid. 

But on the plus side, there's only one way to go now. Up. :)

Tuesday, May 6, 2014


Nobody knows for sure why man finds it hard to describe something to any scale of precision without losing himself in the process. Why are we susceptible to the material things in life and how are most of us so ill-equipped at identifying the difference between things we need, those we want and what we think need? We feel such a sense of belonging watching people succeed but a deep hatred for them at the same time.
Why is there this switch in my head that goes off whenever someone alters the preconceived idea of normalcy that irks me so when I know very well that I have the ability to think for myself and to differentiate between what could be considered acceptable or not. It's supposed to be human tendency to adapt to our surroundings and all the ideas of social standards that have been written down in a rule book that no one seems to know the whereabouts of. Why do we point our fingers and judge someone because it somehow affects us and our well-being. We all know it doesn't matter but we still push each other to become what the other thinks is the best version.
With so many factors conflicting each other is there truly any right way? Maybe there's only one way that branches off into different methodologies that again branch off into another set unpredictable numbers and maybe one of those ways is the absolute right way. But how in the world are we supposed to find it in this knot of lines that branch off into nowhere and everywhere. If we can't find common ground and nice things to relate to we'll all just get spun up in our own web of lies. And then well end up nowhere. 

Monday, April 28, 2014

Indo-American Teenager

From the early over-exaggerated age of 7, I hoped that I would grow up to be an author. I'd never been so sure of anything else. Writing made me happy and that's all that mattered. From that point onward every word I've vomited onto a paper had been harshly scrutinized by myself and I've never gotten anywhere with writing. I studied for eight years in a western country; U.S.A. 
I left to the states at an age of five and went through elementary school and middle school. Ever since high school (when I returned) people have had this impression that since I have an American accent and can utter a few words in English without making a fool of myself that I'm versed in all things relating to the English language. I used to think it was an advantage that I had and that I didn't have to work too hard in English class. I neglected my learning process because I was so sure that I was so much more advanced. But as I took a back seat everyone else ran so far, so fast. Now I'm in college, my vocabulary is no longer my strong suit, I can barely manage a few blog posts without deleting everything I've typed. I falter with my speech and MTI is the worst thing ever. I'm just some dumb girl who lived a few years abroad, I'm no better than all of you. My best asset is turning into a liability. I'm nothing without my words and I fear for the day I'm left with nothing. I clutch onto these books and build a sanctuary for myself with them. I'd rather be a loner working at improving myself than be part of a society or community where I have nothing to contribute. 

This girl is an absolutely average teenager trying to break through the illusionary boundaries she's set up for herself so stop putting her on pedestal and let her pave her way to that foggy self-fulfilling paradise she searches for. 
We've all got to find our own way, so leave me be. 

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Who am I?

Life, the universe and everything else. The supposed ultimate question asked by everyone that ever was anyone. But that's not my question because I sure am not "everybody". I'm just me. Which also happens to be what I want to find out about. I don't care about the universe and everything that has ever been, is and will be. I just want to know the simplest most complicated question that I can think of without getting distracted for the billionth time. Who am I?
Yes, I know I'm a girl, that I have a fickle-minded nature and that I find it extremely difficult to think about one thing consistently and long enough to make a fixation on that single thing without wondering why squirrels like acorns or what Francis Bacon has anything to do with Agrajag and his gargoyles. It's truly a wonder why Mrs. A is so pessimistic about this world and all its inhabitants that I think it'd be better off if she was picked up by the impropability drive and turned into a bowl of petunias. I think it'd be suitable considering her strange fascination with her 'lovely' face.

But really. Who am I? What is my function in this program? Do I have a purpose to fulfill or am I just a delusional mattress who doesn't have a proper identity flopping about the marshes in a wasteland on a planet so secluded that a robot who turned up one fateful day would rather kill itself rather than associate itself with me. Is that what it'll come down to? Or am I muddling up the story? Was that the way it went?
Maybe I'm not a mattress. Maybe I'm  a bug on this checkered picnic cloth laid down by some harmless foodie who just wants to enjoy a nice PB&J sandwich without an insect strutting about acting like that it matters more.

I have started to consider that maybe Mrs. A was right about our limited abilities of understanding ourselves. Or maybe it's just me. I don't even know the path I'm walking down. Last week it was a wonder which way was down and now I've this delusional idea that maybe there is no down. Maybe we just made up the idea of gravity to keep ourselves connected to something or other to keep from floating of into a better world up in the clouds. But what if we let ourselves go once in a while. Then maybe I'd understand my limitations and find how flexible I could actually be. What if I'm a fish trying to ride a bicycle? What if I'm not and I just keep thinking that I am and just end up locking my potential away even though I could be the best fish cyclist. 

I think there's more to this than just the four walls surrounding me. I'd like to break the boundaries of illusion and discover the true nature of my existence. Even though it's quite clear that there's a fifth wall which is a ceiling; technically not a wall. Either way, I need to find a meaning for my existence and find a way to float above the clouds and feel the tug of the rope tied around my waist reminding me where I've come from and where I should be, not where I want to be. Maybe someday those two will be synonymous. Then I can float on back down. I'd walk across the solid ground with my head held high, aware of a world above and the world below it; accepting that they are in fact one and the same. That I never needed to be afraid of the worlds above the clouds as long as I had something to keep me grounded. 

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Character & Choice

I heard the most beautiful saying today from the most unlikely people. "Words become thoughts, thoughts become actions, actions become character and character? Character becomes destiny."
Of late, I've come to realize just how important one's character is. You can lose anything in life and still get through but if you lose your character, you'll have to go to hell and back to get it.
The materialistic parts of my life have long since overcome the important things in my life, leaving me in shackles in a cold, dark room. But I finally see a speckle of light shining through the cracks in the walls. Each ray of sunshine gives me strength, gives me hope that someday I'll get out of here. I've taken them for granted for so long that I barely know the meaning of family anymore. But I will find a way to get out of this rut because I'm starting to believe. How foolish was I, to make deals with the devil. 

Now I'm slowly climbing up my ladder of success, a path straightened out but still having its little bumps and crooks. Some of them straighten out from time to time or just revert back, all depending on the choices I make. We make our own destiny; with the approval of a mightier force of course.   

"As the different streams having their sources in different places all mingle their water in the sea. So, O Lord, the different paths, which men take through different tendencies, various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee."

The Moto G

This review is long overdue but has to be done. HAS TO. 


It's been quite a long time since the word Motorola sparked anything but disinterest. But now it's made a comeback. With the release of the Moto G towards the beginning of 2014, consumers have purchased more and more pieces of the model. Pretty soon the sales skyrocketed. But it seems to be a pretty shifty marketing strategy by launching their Moto X shortly after their instantaneous success. It seems like a shot in the dark and as far as I can tell, it doesn't have the craze that the previous model did; at least definitely not for the previously targeted consumer types. 

Coming to the Moto G. It seems to be on of the best budget-phones in the market right now with it's eye-catching specs:
  • Display size: 4.5”
  • Snapdragon 400 processor quad ARM A7
  • Resolution: 1280×720
  • Pixel density: 326
  • 8GB or 16GB of storage, Micro-SD: No
  • OS: Android 4.3
  • Battery mAh: 2070
  • Removable Battery: No
  • Camera (main): 5 Megapixel
  • Thickness: 0.46”
  • Weight: 5.04oz
  • $179/ Rs. 12,500

Okay this isn't some all out techy review because let's be honest, I know nothing about this stuff. Like what the hell is a Snapdragon processor?! (too tired to google it so leave me be!) So this is just a unfairly-opinionated-incredibly-ignorant-teenage girl's review. 

It's a 4.4.2 Kit-Kat for god's sake. The phone has a very sleek design that fits very well in the palm of your hand. Even though it's a mid-range android phone it has a brilliant LCD display with good contrast levels. The resolution of the screen is 1280x720 with a 326 DPI pixel density striking a nice balance. 
I didn't have high expectations regarding the photo quality but it was still a bit disappointing to see that both the front and rear-end cameras didn't perform well. It suits basic needs as long as you don't plan on printing the images or looking at them in high-resolution.
The built-in internal memory without a slot for an external one isn't ideal but manageable. If you have a micro USB to USB adapter it makes the whole process that much easier because then you could just plug in your Pen drive and use that as a temporary external drive. This is cringe-worthy.

Overall the Moto G is the best budget phones right now with scratch resistant corning, water-repellent coating, quad-core and dual-sim options.

I'm definitely enjoying it! 

Sunday, March 16, 2014


Hello there.
It's been a while hasn't it! Life's finally caught hold of me and I feel like I'm on the fast track. A lot has happened in my life since the last time I've blogged. As a result of a series of events that have taken place I've decided to give my personality a complete makeover; for the sake of the people I'm affecting and for myself.

Well nothing has been the same since then. No more late night shenanigans or reckless decision-making. Things finally seem to be going in the right direction. :)

College is as unbearable as ever, even more so actually. I have cut myself from all the bad influences in my life and rid myself of my pathetic Facebook. I eat lunch in class everyday; in solitude.

Well there isn't much else to talk about so I'd better get going.

P.s.- I turn 18 in two months. I've been dreaming of this day since I was 6. I absolutely love birthdays but I wish I could just stay 17 for can little while longer. I want to set my life straight first.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Music To My Ears

Lips still, eyes lazily looking about, eager for something interesting to gaze upon, hands curiously fidgeting about. Her fingers search for something inside the purple bag sitting on her lap. I lean sideways to try to make out what it is. It was a pair of white earphones. She plugs them into her bright red phone and fiddles with the wires before setting it back down.

You see me for what you want me to be, simple and inconspicuous; silent and unnerving.  But you’ve barely grazed the surface. As the music booms into my ears, tiny sparks set off inside me. My mind creaks and slowly wakes like a lazy old dragon.  I’m transported to another world, my own, where I can be whoever I want to be, wherever I choose to be.  You sneak looks to see the slightest of what appears to be a smile but it’s gone in the next moment, no trace of joy. My eyes appear dull but the sights that I see behind them would envelop yours in fire.  I feel alive, I feel unstoppable. I’m a phoenix that bursts into flames from fear of the ordinary but I live and die a thousand deaths yearning for a miracle. For something, for anything! 

Friday, January 17, 2014


Today I got a free cookie 'cause the lady at the grocery store thought I was crippled.
And it begins.


Sometime around March last year I got in an accident which involved a car, my scootie and me flying through the air. The accident didn't end well for me or my ride.
Well on Sunday I was driving my Mom to the temple and was taking a u-turn at one point. The road was terrible and my scooter skid on the dirt. I didn't have to enough time to recover and balance the weight so we fell down. My Mom somehow made it out without a single scratch but I however, did not. The scooter fell onto my right ankle and I couldn't move it. Pain, ooh, aah, yada yada.
So after two injections and a wheel chair ride through frighteningly blue corridors, I was on my way back home with a soft tissue injury in my foot. I was ecstatic about the fact it wasn't a fracture again. 
Now I'm at home. Bed rest by doctor's instructions. *sigh* I have exams starting day after and technically, they don't end until the end of February. Yay and stuff. -_- 

So kids, drive safe. Don't do stupid shit. Stay in school and don't do drugs!



Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Short Story 4

Do you know anything about death? I don't understand it. Why do we need to die? Why do we need to live? I sat by her bedside and prayed to God for the millionth time. To let her remain in her mortal shell, right beside me, for an eternity. She promised me forever and she promised me more. How could you Molly? Don't do this to me. I grabbed her frail hand and clasped it. I'll never let go, I'll never let go of you!
A small sound escaped from somewhere deep inside her and I jumped to my feet. Molly? Can you hear me? Please, say something! She managed to open her eyes and give me a faint smile. It hurt to see her like this. "You have to let go. You will if you love me. I have to leave now. I love you." 
"Don't say stupid things like that! You're going to be fine. Please just hang in there, I'll get the doctor, everything's going to be fine." I gave her hand one final squeeze before running into the lobby.
"Dr. Fremal! Dr. Fremal! Please someone get the doctor!" Even as I ran about in utter desperation, the words played on repeat in my head. The same seven words echoing in my skull. 
As the machine plugged onto her started sounding for the final time and the doctors ran into her room, I collapsed onto the floor mumbling the seven words fully aware of the Tiffany's box still in my coat pocket. "It was time for her to die".

Mission:  Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a memory about this sentence. Write something about this sentence.

 It was time for her to die.


There's something inside my chest.
I've known for a while.
I feel like it's slowly devouring me.
Eating away at every thought, every memory, every feeling.
Replay. Replay. Replay. Replay.
When does it stop?!
I don't want to see it.
I don't need to see it.

Someone wake me up,
from this never-ending nightmare.
How is this going to end?
How do I surrender?
No. I won't.
I'll go down fighting.

I feel it in my bones, a supernova.
The sun seems like a joke.
Darkness envelops me again.
The flame's out.
It's been out for an eternity.

Wait till I get my hands on a lighter.
I'll set everything on fire.
I'll go down a fighter.

There's something inside me that I need to kill.

*I don't remember what song inspired this.

Sunday, January 12, 2014


Leaving letters on doorsteps and tears in my eyes.
What gives you the right?
The walls were built of paper
that disappeared at night.

I thought I could tell them,
about how hard it was to let go
of something I never had.
Someone I never knew.

What was running through your mind?
It replays in my head even though I
didn't see it.
Even though I never have,
even though I never will.

I should be glad that I didn't know you
but I can't help but wish I did.
I heard you were a nice guy,
I bet you were. 

I was fine until the wind blew everything out
but I let it all go,
just like you did.
How are you brave?
A fleeting moment, a broken house.
What are we going to do now?
How were you so brave?*

Towards the end of last month, one of my seniors took his life.
 He was in a coma a year back and hadn't been the same since he'd recovered. In the place he was in, mentally, God knows what was going through his mind. 
It was on a Sunday.
It's not my place to disclose any more about him.
But it has affected me more than I expected.
I never knew him, never met him. But I couldn't stop crying. Death has never been easy for me, it never will be either. 
I hope he's in a better place and looking down on his family if he believed in that sort of thing.

I don't know what's proper and what isn't when it's about death. I don't if I should be speaking about you, I don't know if your sister would like it. But she sure does miss you.

RIP Pruthveer. 

Friday, January 10, 2014


 And she tucked herself away in a corner,
expecting no one to notice.
But truth be told, people always notice
when you don't want them to.
They've never noticed the tears in her eyes
as long as she had a smile plastered on.
But some days the sadness spread to the rest
of her face and they began to flood her with 
questions they didn't bother asking before.

She's all alone in a crowd,
she can't show you what it feels like.
And she knows better now.
She knows not to trust you now.

She knows she doesn't owe you anything.
She's still finding herself. 

Wake me up when it's all over. 

Saturday, January 4, 2014


Hello. :)

This will be first post of the new year since I started my blog so it's probably going to be long. I apologize beforehand for all the boring shit.

I started last year off pretty badly. As the clock struck 12:00, I was lying under my blanket crying my eyes out. Everything was coming to an end and nothing felt right. It was the towards the end of my senior year of high school. I started off school with so many friends and ended up with about 4-5 people that I could actually call friends. That's what high school is all about right? We had our farewell/graduation in February and that was damn messed up but we made the best of it. I had finals in March and ended up in a car accident on the 17th. I thought I'd died but I made it. :) Somehow I'd finished my exams and managed to graduate. Yay! Then came college applications. The worst ever, destroyed my vacation. After about a month of vigorous coaching for entrance exams at a stupid institute (which was very unfruitful), I'd got my results for the finals. They were absolutely terrible and I was doubtful about getting into college. By God's grace I got an admission into an engineering college. I finally joined college and it's been a crazy roller coaster ride since.

2013 was just another year. I'm not going to sit down and write story tales about it now. I'm just looking forward to the new year!

Happy New Year! :)