A Mother's Love.

I walked into the room cautiously. She was sitting on the bed, folding the clothes, her back towards me. The sight of her made my heart sink. Another wave of nausea hit me as it always did when I thought about telling her what I was going to tell her now. Mostly it was because I  always wanted to believe I was doing the right thing and it would never come to this, and even after that proved to be false, I was just too stubborn to admit that she was right, right from the start. As I walked up to her and patted her on the back, she turned around and smiled, handing me a bunch of clothes that I needed to put in my bag and joked around saying something about how they were washed now and I'll have beautifully fragrant clothes for the trip. Her jokes however, were in vain, because I could barely hear her from the words that were swimming in my head. "Where do I begin? How do I tell her? More importantly, WHAT do I tell her? Will she be upset? Will she grumble? Will she say the words that I'd inevitably come to hear and that had begun to haunt me even in my sleep? "I told you so." Could I do this? SHOULD I do this? Maybe its just better if I don't say anything. But I knew, even as all these questions clogged my mind, that I was going to tell her.
She must've sensed something, because her smile was slowly replaced by a questioning look in her eyes. She probably also noticed the obvious obscurity that was my face. At first, with the way she was looking at me, a funny image crossed my mind where she thought I was pregnant or something. The blatant absurdity of that alone almost made me laugh. ALMOST.
As she watched me, I closed my eyes, licked my lips to make sure that it was not dry with nerves, took a deep breath, and began..
Somewhere in between my story, I opened my eyes. But not once did I look in her direction. Not once did I glance to see what her reaction was. All I did was look at my hands. As the words tumbled out, I didn't think of what I was telling her. I just told her everything. Everything that had happened. Everything that id felt. Everything that I had gone through. How she was right all along. How love or at least the idea of it had made me blind. How I had failed to see what I should've seen. How I had gone against everything everyone said because I wanted to defy the universe. It all came out. Word after word. Emotion after emotion. Feeling after feeling.
When I was done, I looked up. My eyes were surprisingly dry, even though I had the terrible urge to bawl them out. But I stayed calm. I shook my head and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I should've listened to you. It would never have come to this if I had."
When I was finally valiant enough to look at her, I was given the last reaction that I'd ever expected. I expected her to be smirking, I expected her to be laughing with triumph, I expected her to say, "I told you so." The very words that Id come to despise. I expected her to shoo me away and make me sulk in a corner rather than come to her for comfort. I expected the cold shoulder. But when I looked at her, all she did was pull me close and wrap her arms around me.
And that was it. That's when it finally hit home. That's when the pain that id been carrying like a burden for all those months, came gushing out in a wave of salt water running down my cheeks. The pain of a broken heart. The pain of hearing everyone around me say, "I told you he would leave." The pain of useless hope. The pain of, 'I never loved you. I would never have come back.' The pain of "you're too much drama" The pain of haunting nightmares of memories that had seared themselves into my brain. I let it all out, as I held on to her tightly and sobbed till my heart went numb.
When i finally pulled back and looked at her face, all i saw was tears. Tears that were rolling down those lovely cheeks that were slightly beginning to wrinkle with age. She was looking at me with so much love. Her nose turning a slight color of crimson. I'd expected a smirk, instead I'd gotten a tear. Id expected a laugh of triumph, instead I'd gotten a cry of grief. Instead of "I told you so." I'd gotten, "Oh, my poor babydoll." And instead of the cold shoulder that I was so blindly expecting, she pulled me close into a warm tight embrace. I looked at her and that was my moment of clarity. In that moment, I realized that I wasn't the only one who had suffered all those months. When I cried myself to sleep at night, she cried with me. When I hid the pain under that big smile that I gave everybody, she fretted with me. Despite the fact that I had kept it all from her, she knew every little detail. Every emotion, every feeling, every expression whether seen or hidden. Because she was my mother. And I was a part of her. The very core of her existence. She made me, and therefore knew every little thing that her daughter felt. She knew my soul. Because we were connected, and always would be. My mother loved me, and no matter what, always would.

That was my moment of clarity. That was the moment I knew. The moment when the pieces of my broken heart picked itself up and pieced itself together. All it took was acceptance...
...and a mother's love.

Hold On

Everything changes. However much you may want to hold on to the past,
to everything you had... it goes away.
But you need to know, that no matter what, Ill be there.
Watching your life play out from afar...
...and marveling at the girl you are.

I promise to be a constant in your life, however hard your days may get.
I promise to love you, flaws and all,
and constantly, deliberately remind you each day, lest you forget.

I know there are times when things tend to get out of hand.
And you need nothing more than an escape route, a back up plan...
But whats life without a little pain? Ive seen you go through worse and come out stronger than you've ever been.



Things seem to be slipping away from you.Things seem to be falling out of place
But you need to know love, that there are certain bonds and grounds that neither time... nor distance... or even CHANGE could ever shake.

Hold on tightly to every memory you've got, hold on tightly to each and every one of them,
cause when this storm passes, after you've given it everything you've got,
The ones you love and who matter the most will be there, ALWAYS
And I, I'll hold you someday soon...again.

Come Back To Bed

It was 2 in the morning. She sat at the window, looking out but not really seeing anything. It was dark outside. Black as the color of death. The moon didn't shine today, as it normally did. She suspected it was hidden somewhere behind some cloud, waiting to be given a chance to come out again. Waiting for those storm clouds to quietly pass by. But of course they didn't. Storm clouds never leave without causing some kind of destructive storm. Most of the time the destructions are reparable. But what if it wasn't now. What if this storm that had just occurred had caused irreparable damage? What would she do? Would she survive the chaos and destruction that surrounded her? Literally. Would she fight for what she loved? Or did it not matter anymore, now that some part, told her she didn't.

He sat on the bed. The bed that had been full of the warmth from their bodies was cold now, her side of it, empty and untouched. There was no light in the room, except for the dullness of the moon, through weathered clouds, marking his silhouette. All around him was broken glass. Remnants of frames and birthday presents that had once been. It was all shattered now. Broken into pieces like the love they once shared. What had they done? where had they gone wrong? How did it come to this? They had been so good together. Now he couldn't stand the sight of her. Her moods, her tantrums, her independence, everything that he once loved about her, now boiled his blood.  Maybe it was a good thing that it had come to this. Maybe they just weren't meant to be. Maybe he was better off without her. She was too dramatic and he couldn't stand it. As he walked out to tell her that it was over, his shoe came down on something, further crumpling the shards of glass to pieces. He bent over to pick it up, and stared...

Outside, she sat. Hands in her lap, taking in the bruises from the frames she'd broken in a fit of rage. She had a temper she knew, but so did he. He was as bad as her. As strong-willed as she was. They were like fire against fire. Their love was passionate, but their anger was wrathful. As she sat and looked on, the blood slowly drying around the bruises, she knew it was over. This was a storm, they couldn't surpass. This was a severe fight, they could never get over. Words had been said. Words that could never be taken back. It was words that brought them together, and words that would tear them apart. In that moment she despised 'love.' Love that had consumed her so many times but had eventually fizzled out. She was so engulfed in her own thoughts and emotions that she didn't see him come up to her, and take her hands in his. Even when she did realize, she was too stunned to pull away. He drew her close, still holding her hands, gently but firmly and whispered something in her ear. He pulled back, held her eyes for a moment, got up and went back to the bedroom.

When she opened her palm to see what it was that he had left in her hand, she saw a picture. It was the picture of an abnormally large, homemade cake. Sprinkles had been used to write a sentence in the middle of the cake. She looked at it, and felt her heart contract. Of course she remembered that picture. She had made that cake. It had been one of those nights when he'd been sitting up late and working. She'd woken up in the middle of the night and made that cake to tell him how much she missed him by her side. His arms, the warmth and security of his chest. And he'd laughed so much at the gesture, eventually smearing cake all over her face. It was that day, that they'd sworn, they'd always be together and never leave each others side. She smiled now at the memory, and gave in. That part that had told her only minutes ago that she didn't love him had dissolved. Because she did love him. No matter what. She always had, and always would.And she knew he loved her too. That look that he had just given her, had said it all. So she did exactly what he'd whispered in her ear. She did exactly what was written on that cake that she had baked for him, that night.

As she walked into the bedroom, the picture fell to the ground. And the light of the moon that had finally come out, shone on the words sprinkled delicately onto the cake...
..."Come back to bed."

A Letter of Words Never Said.

October 08, 2013
To: Heaven
Subject: Hey, you.
Hey, you. Happy Birthday!
I've  been thinking about you alot lately. I don't know why, but I have. This whole week, Ive been reminiscing. Memories of how we were, how it all changed, how I was a bitch to you, (make sure you don't show God this letter, yeah. :P) and in the end how, you got the last laugh. Honestly, Im writing this letter not knowing what to say. How and where to begin. So Im just going to start with the standard Hi. How are you? I hope its good where you are. Happier, peaceful. Is it heavenly? After all, they must call it Heaven or Paradise for a reason right? Whats it like, Heaven? Are there angels constantly flying around playing harps and singing all the time?! I bet it reminds you of me doesn't it?! Except I don't fly...hiyaah. Sorry. Im digressing. But I know I made you laugh. Are there beautiful gardens? Oh oh. What about food?! How delicious is it?! Do you'll have buffets and feasts with all the residents and the saints?? And what's God like? Is he just as we imagined him?? Like how we learnt in Sunday School? Is he tall, long white hair, white beard? Does he look like a more glorious version of Dumbledore?! I know, I know. Even here I have to make silly Harry Potter references. If you were in front of me, you would've probably smacked me hard on the back by now.
But that's just it, isn't it. You're not here. And when you were, I didn't care. I took advantage of the fact that I thought you'd ALWAYS be there. I didn't give you the attention you deserved because I thought you didn't need it. No. Let me rephrase that. I didn't WANT to give it to you. I thought there were other people more deserving and capable of my love than you. And all the while, you waited patiently, hoping and knowing that one day I would come around. It kills me slowly everyday to think of how I just left you HANGING onto that hope. And it probably always will.

I get now, why you did what you did. I don't approve of it and never will, but I get it. I hated you more than I'll ever admit, in that moment when I'd found out because whatever the reason, you had no right to give up. To just throw it all away. I couldn't comprehend what was so bad that you chose to take such a drastic step. But I do now.. And the epiphany of it drives an imaginary stake through my heart every single time that I think about you.
It was me. You made that decision because of ME.
You needed love. You needed comfort. You needed a drive, something that would keep you going. You needed to know that you were strong enough to take whatever life threw at you, however big or small. You needed to know that you were NEEDED. Loved to a point beyond your common fairytale imagination. You needed to know that you were strong and beautiful no matter what anyone said. And I was never there. Never there to fulfil any of those needs. I never gave you that love, that comfort, that strength. I never gave you that escape route in the disguise of a phone call that you so desperately needed. And THAT'S why you did what you did.
But they say everything happens for a reason, so now I look at your decision as a way to end your suffering. To finally let go of that burden you were carrying with a smile we knew all too well. I imagine you're happy now. Peaceful, burden-free enjoying a kickass birthday with God. But its my turn now, to need. My turn to need YOU. To tell you how sorry I am. To say goodbye. My turn to need that one person who had the ability to piss me off and make me smile, all in that same moment.
I miss you, and I hope this letter will tell you how sorry I am that you're gone. But at the same time, I hope it tells you how happy I am that you've finally found happiness and love. And a place where you can say, you finally belong.

P.S: Remind God, that he still has one of my dreams pending, will you.

Love,
Your harami,
Renelle.

Survival of the Strongest.

What did you expect when you saw him standing there, that first time. What did you expect when he told you that he cared.
What did you expect when you realized he was lying, slipping away.
That eventually he would leave, running scared.

What did you expect, when you realised it was over, what did you expect when he gave you back your heart.
What did you expect as you helplessly watched love walk out the front door,
when you saw your whole world being slowly and deliberately torn apart.

What did you expect when he tried to break you.
Over and over with the same disheartening set of words.
What did you expect when he took you for granted...
Calculatingly causing pain and hurt.

No, you didn't expect any of the events that unfolded.
Neither did you want him to come around.
What you expected was to feel a certain kind of strength knowing that somewhere hope would eventually be found.

You didn't expect to feel worthless, though you cant deny that it was there.
But I know that you're capable of so much more, that believing otherwise would be anything but fair.
I know what you've gone through.
I look at you and see the burden that you silently carry 'neath the vibrance in your eyes.
I know you didn't expect to be broken beyond repair,
but I expect you to, like you Always do...
...survive.

Shadowed And Protected.

She sat on the bathroom floor. Crying, and trying to stop those tears that were eating her inside. But her attempts were too feeble. The tears came, rolling hard and stubborn down her cheeks. It made her face feel hot and sticky. But she didn't care. All she wanted were for the tears to stop. She wanted the pain to go away. She didn't like feeling this way. No, 'didn't like' would be an understatement. She loathed it. This was not her. Helpless and lonely. She was a strong girl. She knew her way around and she knew what she was capable of. She knew she could take care of herself. Despite what people said, she wasn't naive and she didn't need to be shadowed and protected. It was not easy, she knew. This world is a cruel place to live in. But she could get by. She WOULD get by. She didn't need to be told otherwise.
As she sat there willing herself to stop feeling so miserable, there was a book that lay by her side. The cover had a man- no, a boy- hardly the age of 16 or 17 with a sword swung across his back. He had a black half sleeved shirt on, and while most of it was covered, the marks on his skin- pale and even- stood out like vivid scars on his arms and neck. His eyes were a mystery. Not only because they were unreadable but also because they weren't there. The cover ended a little above his nose revealing only an angular jaw, a thin but full set of lips and a few locks of his brown unsettled hair. Below, just where his torso ended, was the title of the book. She took it in her hands now and wished, not for the first time, that that boy on the cover was real. That she were a part of the world that existed within that book, rather than a part of this world that she lived in with such hurt and misery.. That she stood for something more than just what this life offered her. She wished with all her heart, that she was, like the boy on the cover, a warrior. A fighter, who was strong and independent. She was always a book lover, feeling the emotions, loving the characters devouring herself when she needed a getaway. But this book, was different. It connected with her, in ways she didn't even understand. Whenever she thought of the book, she felt happy. Content. Because no matter what, she would always have that little escape route. Even if it was for a few hours, it was there. She sat now, on that bathroom floor and clutched the book tightly to her chest. She hoped that the warm and crisp pages of the world within would give her comfort. That the smell and scent of those pages, would soothe her mind and calm her nerves.
But nothing happened. Nothing came. No peace, no comfort. And she knew it even before she acknowledged it. Nothing could come and pull her out now. Nothing could save her. This wasn't something she could escape from. No matter what, it would eventually catch up with her. Her fate was sealed. Bound by traditions and customs of the world. There was no choice. She never had one. She knew she could take on the world. But the only problem was, she would never be allowed to. She would have to carry out her duty. First as obedient daughter, now as dutiful wife.
Fairytales, she knew now, were the only ones with happy endings. She would never get that. Because she would never be allowed to fly. She would never be allowed to let her imaginations run away with the wind.

She was tied to life's cruelty. And it would never let her go. She would always be kept hidden away on a dusty shelf.

Shadowed and Protected.

Fangirl, and Proud.

Nothing, of late, has been inspiring me to write. Nothing grasps my attention in the way that it would. Neither do my emotions come out like it normally should. You'd think I was having a phase where my emotions are turned off. Or it's probably just that time of the month and my moods are running crazy. But no. I highly doubt that's the case. You see, for the past week or two, I've been channeling my emotions, my attention and all of my energy toward a different kind of activity. Fangirling. (Yes, I'm THAT girl. :P )
So I decided to write about THIS set of my emotions, to put across the idea of what fangirling really is. Well, underneath all the screams and hysterical giggles and fits of ecstatic almost manic happiness.
I have this very close friend of mine who's a fangirl. So I'm going to use her as an example. For those of you who know me, there's a high chance you'll know who she is. But for the ones who don't, lets leave her a mystery, shall we. So this 'mystery best friend' of mine is not just ANY fangirl. She takes shipping ABC's CASTLE and BECKETT,(Caskett, for those of you who've been living under a rock. ) to a whole new level. They are her all time OTP, (One True Pair) ALWAYS. She's admin of at least 1 Castle page on almost every social network. She trends hastags at the speed of lightning. She eats up every update and promotional information there is about Castle like a hungry hyena. She cries at the end of a sad episode and goes red in the face with a fit of giggles when it ends well. Sometimes she's crying and laughing at the same time, and you don't know what to think. Like I said, she's no ordinary fangirl. And at first, I didn't quite understand. I mean, sure. I fangirl too. (Although I'll never be as good as her. ) And trust me when I say, I have TONS of fandoms, Harry Potter, The Mortal Instruments and Percy Jackson being some of the main few. Everything amazes me and everything captures my attention. But it wasn't until recently that it really REALLY hit home. 

The thing with me is, I love to read. When I have a book in my hand, you could be standing right in from of me and I wouldn't know. I tune everyone and everything out. So my fangirling isn't really, like my 'mystery best friend''s is, 'The TV Show' kind. I like TV shows, don't get me wrong! But when I read a book, I'm transported to a completely different world. And THAT'S when the fangirling begins. Because I don't limit my emotions and my expectation of these fictional characters. Whether they play a positive part or have a negative role, they intrigue me. I imagine these characters as if they were a part of my life. As if I were a part of every little situation in their world. I picture what they would be like in reality. Their features, their traits. Whether they're good or bad, they take a place in my heart. I try to understand and comprehend what drives them. And I fall in love. Over and over again. I fell in love with Sydney Carton from A Tale Of Two Cities and Catherine Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights solely because of the fact that I understood where they were coming from without really understanding how I understood it. When I obsess about Jace Wayland/ Herondale from the Mortal Instruments or about William Herondale from the Infernal Devices, I don't do it because they're HOT or BRITISH. (Which they are, no doubt about that. :P) But, I do it because I see the ideal man in William. I see a warrior. I see a man who would protect the ones he loves with his life. I see Jace as what a man should be or at least strive to be like. That beneath the sarcasm and humor, the 'I don't give a rat's ass about anybody but myself' facade, and walls that touch the sky, is a boy just waiting to be understood and loved. And that's what amazes me. (I know, I know. I sound very crazy.)

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, fangirling isn't just jumping and screaming and yelping and gasping like many people think it is. It's much much more than that. My 'mystery best friend' doesn't just obsess about Castle because she's got nothing else to set her mind on. She does it because sometimes she needs to escape from reality. She learns from the characters, she feels what they feel, she understands, she relates. It lets her believe that there are happy endings despite the cruelness of the world. Even if it is temporary and fictional. It gives her hope and a reason to believe in something.
I couldn't agree more. To be aware of your emotions is a gift in itself. But to able to accept it and channel it effortlessly is a marvelous talent. And to me, THAT'S what fangirling is all about. Not a psychotic, boy crazy hysterical being, but someone with the ability to dream. Someone with a beautiful and vivid imagination.

Someone who believes.

There Are No Words.

There are no words to describe the feeling of ecstasy,
that ran through her veins when she heard it for the first time.
The soft thumping of a heart...
the heart of a tiny unknown child.

There are no words to depict the joy in her heart,
the joy that came with the sight of that unknown little one.
resting and waiting in her womb...
...while she wondered if she would be blessed...
this time with a little baby girl rather than another loving son.

There are no words to illustrate the enjoyment she felt,
while she shopped and looked for things that would one day belong..
...all of it, to her unborn little angel.
3 months down, 6 more to go, she could barely contain her anticipation.
Drawn, once again, into the mystery and hopefulness of it all.

There are no words to express the cold that washed over her,
when the first signs of realization dawned.
Realization, that even before she had the chance to hold that tiny unknown child,
The chance slipped away and was gone.

No. There are no words to describe the cruel game fate played with her..
No words to explain the grief that engulfed her,
when she watched that tiny unknown, unborn and unbreathing child being separated..
and taken away from her.
Never to know her.
Never to love her.
Never to be a mother to her.

 

The Memory Of An Exception: Part The Second.

As we stood backstage watching the other contestants and smiling furtively at each other as certain songs reminded us of inside jokes we'd cracked, he kept playfully punching my shoulder and telling me I was worrying too much. That I was simply going to kill it. And I told him that he shouldn't be this laid back about it because I was going to beat him hollow. (Which, of course I regretted later.) But he just narrowed his eyes and gave me a quirky grin saying. "We shall see." Even as I said it, my heart contracted in my chest. I didn't want to beat him hollow. I wanted him to feel that same joy of winning that I felt. But I wasn't going to tell him that. He already suspected I was going cookoo. Why give him a reason to confirm it. (I admit, I was being a bit crazy. Hysterical giggles when you're nervous, having cold water when you know you're going to sing...who does that ?! ) But our little quiet argument was thrown off guard, when one of the contestants before me sang a rendition of 'Rolling in the Deep' and probably made the hair on the back of the necks of everyone in the room stand. And also gave me a horrible complex. (Hey, I'm only human.) At that, a terrible cold washed over me. It never happened before, (I mean it did, though not this bad.) but it was happening now. I was almost in tears, clutching his arm and digging my nails into it. (I can't believe the masochistic fellow even willingly gave me his blasted hand!!) and telling him I couldn't do it. That I was gonna run out of the auditorium before the cold of the AC pricked through my skin and before the pressure of it all forced my knees to give way. But he was calm and smiling. That angelic smile that covered a storm in his eyes. Because he knew I couldn't do it. WOULDN'T do it. He knew me too well to worry that I would chicken out because I couldn't hit a high note or sing an emotionally 'angst-ridden' song. (What did I tell you about crazy?)
I hardly had time to do anything to compose myself when she was done and I was called on stage. I let go of his arm, (which I have a strong feeling was scratched and burning) took a deep breath and walked onto the stage. Everyone was cheering and screaming, but I could hardly hear them over the buzz in my ears from the tremble and coldness I felt inside. And then suddenly my father, bless him, out of nowhere screamed out my name and cheered. My head snapped up at that. My dad had seen him, had seen us on that stage together and he'd cheered. It seemed we were off to a good start. THAT, calmed me a wee bit and gave me the guts to introduce my song. I smiled to myself for a minute at the connection of it to me and that boy on stage and began.
I glided through the song effortlessly, closing my eyes when I felt I had to, in order to engulf myself in the song. I pulled all the emotions I needed, and placed it here and there around the song deftly and delicately. The auditorium faded away and it was just him, the song and me. I was living the tune. Breathing the words, feeling it. And he guided me brilliantly through it. He knew exactly where my voice rose like the tide and exactly where it fell into a whisper. I was aware of every note and every chord that he played. I was aware of his presence near me. It stood out like a single lily growing in a bed of red roses. All the pointers he gave me, the places that he felt needed my utmost concentration, I kept in mind. I had never been so aware of him before that moment. And then we were looming towards that high note. That note that would determine the fate of the entire song. I hesitated for a fraction of a second...but then knew I could do it. Because HE knew I could do it. He never doubted it even once. And it was my duty to prove him right. I wanted nothing more than to make him proud. When I was done and opened my eyes to see the crowd cheer, I looked over at him. Not until I saw that smile, did I realize I was holding my breath for it. For his reaction. He didn't look at me, but it was there. Written all over his face. His smile. 
For that moment, for that one single moment nothing mattered at all. Not the way the crowd cheered or the idea of winning or even the fact that the boy beside me didn't love me or feel the same way about me anymore but only cared for me like a friend should. All that mattered, was the smile on his face. That smile that echoed joy, that echoed respect and most importantly pride. For a while, a while that felt like a fraction of second, everything...EVERYTHING seemed to fall into place.

And then reality hit home.

The Memory Of An Exception: Part The First.

I was panicking. I was on my way to the competition and I was panicking. REAL BAD. To make things worse, there was traffic and I was worried that I was running late. And you can't walk into a competition late!! Everybody knows that !! So. Panicking.
When I finally got there, (I wasn't late, thank Heavens!) the place was complete chaos. Everybody was all over the place getting their participation numbers and rehearsing and getting their act together. I had no idea where to go. So I texted him. He replied back saying they were in one of the classrooms. Even though it was a simple one, reading his text, despite everything that had happened between us. Despite the fact that it was over and we were trying to be friends, gave me butterflies in my stomach and sent shivers down my spine. But now wasn't the time to think about that. I had to get to the classroom and fast.
The previous night, while preparing my song, gargling with hot water and thrusting honey down my throat, I did some over-thinking. Word of advice: Over-thinking is a bad BAD thing. Especially while you're having pre-show jitters. I was nervous, my mind was wandering and to my utter misfortune, it latched itself onto the first thing it found in my head. Him. Well...the competition and him. Not only was he my accompanist, but he was participating as well. Which meant he was competition for me. And good competition not to mention. So was I worried that he would screw up my song? Of course not. I knew him like the back of my hand. He would never do that. If  there was anyone who was psychotically obsessed with wanting me to win, it was him. No. That was the least of my problems. What was driving me crazy was the fact that there was a possibility that one of us could lose. Part of me-the selfish part-didn't want to lose. I mean, c'mon. Who does! But the other part, the one that knew how good and talented he was didn't want to win if it meant he would lose. I wanted him to win just as much as I wanted myself to win. It didn't help that the song I'd picked,(he'd picked actually and I'd reluctantly agreed.) was an emotional one that contained history. So basically I was going to sing a song under the constant fear that at any point, it would hit home, my voice would crack and the song would blow. Like I said. Over-thinking =BAD IDEA. Oh, and the cherry on top? Not everyone knew that he was playing for me. (Everyone meaning my dad, and everyone knows how daddies can be.) Given our history, we thought it better to just go with it and not blow it out of proportion. So his reaction was something I was unwillingly and fearfully looking forward to.
As we made our way to the auditorium now, all these thoughts that haunted me the previous night deviously made its way into my head. I was feeling so much at once, I didn't know if I was going to die of excitement or be sick to my stomach. I was scared of the song, of being on that stage with him again. I was terrified of hitting that high note. I knew I could do it, but at the same time I was afraid that I couldn't.
While sitting in the green room and mentally preparing myself, I looked over at him as he sat there in that black shirt and practiced his song. People were wishing him as they were wishing me and teasingly asking me if I was worried that he would change key in the middle of the song. And there wasn't a single hint of hesitation in my voice when I laughed and told them I wasn't. He looked up at me, gave me a smile that held a promise and went back to playing. When he was called up to the stage, as he performed I stood in the shadows smiling and saying a simple silent litany: "Please. Please let him win. He deserves this."

A Farewell.

 It’s been a little hard for me to tell you how I feel. What you mean to me. Every time I try to explain it, it either comes out wrong, or doesn’t come out altogether.  Now, as I sit in the aircraft and watch as the last specks of 17 years of my life rapidly disappear along the runway, I think of how some out of those 17 years were spent in the presence of one of the best people I have EVER known. And I miss you. I miss you so much, that there’s an enormous part of me that just wants to get off the flight so I can come back home and everything can just go back to the way it was.  But I know that if I did that, I would be giving you no reason to be proud of me. 

You’ve been there whenever I’ve needed you. Even when I didn’t know it myself, even when I didn’t want your help, you were there. Your mere presence has never failed to put a smile on my face. You loved me. You still do. Not because I was the pretty brown haired, brown eyed girl with a golden voice. But because I was the bubbly head-in-the-clouds, on-a-perpetual-sugar rush dramatic headstrong girl, who had much more to her than she let on.

 The first time that I met you, we hardly spoke. We were two different people, we had a different set of friends, save for the few mutual ones that we knew.  But, I secretly admired you. (partly because of the fact that you carried yourself with so much of charisma and individuality.) Your personality astounded me. I was terrified to know what a person like you could hold and be like within, but my curiosity got the best of me. I WANTED to take that risk. To play with fire. I just didn’t know HOW… (But you did eventually, thank God!) Now, years later, we’ve grown up and come such a long way, it’s almost hard to believe that I couldn’t pluck up the courage to just say HI. Its hard to wrap my head around the fact that those two kids were us. Walking around like we had not a care in the world. Fighting, challenging each other. You saw the innocence and morality in me as I saw the benevolence and goodness in you. We had good times and we had bad. Heartbreaking situations and joyous occasions. There were times when I hated you enough to want to drive a stake through your heart and there were times I loved you with every nerve and fiber in my body. At times when I look back at all these years, I feel slight pangs of regret because I never let you in soon enough. I never let you see beyond that smile, that I constantly had plastered on my face. You looked at me with so much of love and respect, you believed in me so firmly and trusted me to lengths I couldn’t imagine, I was so scared that if you saw how flawed I was, those feelings would change. You would run away, just like everyone else. I distanced myself. Drew a barrier between me and the rest, especially you, because I thought it was the right thing to do. Turns out, it wasn't the smartest move in the world.
We hardly talk anymore. It’s been months since I left. I’m oceans away and you’ve moved on. We both have. You have a life that beckons and gets crazier day by day. And I have a whole array of new beginnings ahead of me. We talk whenever we can, but there’s no denying that the bond we once had, the one where you knew exactly what I was thinking without me saying a word. Where every song I sang, and every note I hit reminded you of how proud you were of me, and of the fact that I was a part of your life and you of mine, is wrinkling at the edges. It will never fade away entirely. But it is weakening. As time goes on you won’t miss me and I won’t think of you, as I do. Already your memory seems like a blur. A dream that occurred ages ago. So I’ll say it now, before it ceases to matter entirely. I miss you. And I love you. You will see greatness and encounter people much better than me. And I will see either the blissful tranquility or uproar of life through someone else’s eyes. But that love will never change.So for now, the distance will do. Let the bond break, if meant to. What could be better than building it again if we have to. And when we meet once more somewhere down the road of forever, everything that transpired between us will be there. And I will have my best friend back.
So,Yes. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier to just get off that plane and come home. No distance to break us. But then I remember, that if I did that, I would be giving you no reason to be proud of me.
And thats what comes to matter. Even if leads to our distance.

Uncomfortable In Her Own Skin.

She didn't know when it had occurred. Or even how. It had slowly crept its way in. All she knew was that she was looking at someone else in the mirror. Someone who had captured her being and taken possession of who she was. Like a stranger, a ghost that was living and breathing vicariously through her. The girl in the mirror was different from the girl she saw within. She had taken the backseat in her own life. The girl in the mirror was cold, but wiser. She was calling the shots. Making the decisions. Stopping the ache and yearning and switching the emotions off. The girl in the mirror was healing her. Repairing the damage and wreckage. Still, that didn't change the fact that she had no idea WHO this girl was.

She peered closely to see if she could find at least some fragments of the girl she had once been. The heart that had once resided in the body she was looking at. She looked the same. Brown eyes, brown hair... the same laugh, the same smile, the same voice... her nose wrinkled the same way when she frowned. And yet she wasn't who she wanted to be. That was it. She couldn't seem to unearth anything else. Nothing that reminded her of a life that had once meant the most to her. Should she be happy that she was healing?? That she could finally let it all go?? That she could finally take it all in her stride and not break down?? Maybe. But at what price?? Losing who she was? No. She wouldn't stand for that. But there appeared to be nothing she could do. She was not the holder of her life anymore.
Change they say, is inevitable and it had finally caught up with her. The girl in the mirror was changing her. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made it possible to face the challenges of the world. She was growing up.

Still...STILL...She didn't know what, and she didn't know why. But somehow, somewhere she was positive that she had lost something. Something that was a part of her. Something that she had fought for but misplaced. Something that gave her a feeling of assurance and security.
And without it she was susceptible...
apprehensive..
unsure of herself...
Without it, she was uncomfortable in her own skin.

Angels in Disguise. Sisters, ALWAYS.

Okay. This isn't an inspirational post. But its a post about 2 people who inspired me. 2 people who have in the course of 3 years come to mean the world to me. 2 people who laughed with me through the good times and picked me up during the bad. 2 people who dared to trust me despite having built walls that touch the sky. It is said, that wearing your heart on your sleeve isn't always a very good idea. But these 2, they took a chance and put their hearts out there. And I highly doubt they'll ever regret it. These 2 people, they were like angels. Angels that showed me how to live and led me to believe. Believe in love, believe in forgiveness and believe in hope.

The first angel was with me for 8 years. But I failed to acknowledge her presence. She watched over me from a distance. Admiring, marveling at the girl I was. She wanted to reach out to me, to know me. She wanted to understand me. But like most angels, she was invisible to me. Over the past three years, this angel and I have gotten so close, that a simple gesture that I make helps her understand what im feeling. Every look in my eye lets her know my hearts emotions. Every smile that I give the world, she knows it through and through. And not a day goes by where she doesn't try to cure my heart of all the pain.This angel has taught me, that I don't need to be great or beautiful or popular. I just need to be ME. And she loves that girl. The girl that I am. She always has, and I KNOW that she ALWAYS will.

The second angel was like a bonus for knowing the first. A very very good bonus. They were like a package deal. TWIN angels. Beautiful, heavenly TWIN angels. So this second angel, just like the first went unnoticed for 5 years. There was the occasional 'Hi, How are you?' but not much beyond that. From mere acquaintances to friends, to sisters, to being my conscience, my guiding light, my silver lining. This angel not only picked me up whenever I fell, but she also put me back on the right track. She never forced her opinions on me, but made me see sense. Differentiate between what was right for and me, and what I would regret. She made me believe in fairy tales. Not the storybook ones, but the ones that were based on MY reality.

Yes, these two angels know exactly what they mean to me. So whats so significant about today that I have to make it known through words written in a blog ? Nothing, except that they turn 18 today. Today, the 3rd of July, 18 years ago two wonderful human beings were born. And they have changed my life just like they've changed every other life they've touched in these 18 years. Since they're born exactly 10 days after me, I like to think that they were literally sent as guardian angels or bodyguards rather, cause God already had an idea of how messed up I would be. Mentally, Emotionally and Spiritually. So they were like my anchors in every aspect. Still are. And always will be. These two girls have been so wonderful and so supportive that sometimes I wonder if I even deserve it. They aren't just friends or acquaintances. These two girls are the sisters I've never had. They are Family. Nothing will ever change that.

So, Faye and Marilyn. A very Happy Birthday! I don't need to give you'll a whole speech on chasing your dreams and never giving up, because you'll are the ones who taught it to me. But I do wish you'll all the happiness and love this life has to offer you. Please dont ever forget how much you'll mean to me. I love you both to bits. Have a wonderful 18th birthday and a smashing year ahead. :)

Relationships That Were, Bonds That Are And Ties That Will Always Be.

If you had a chance to go back in time and do things differently, would you? Would you make the same mistakes? Behave the same way? Would you be a little less harsh and a little more gentle ? A little less naive and a little more wiser? A little less distracted and a little more focused? A little less selfish and little more giving? I know I would. Knowing what I know now, I would definitely do it over if I had the chance.
However, this doesn't mean, that I regret those blunders and slip ups. Sure, some of them were ineradicable. But does it help to dwell upon those indelible memories? No. It doesn't. It was experience and lessons that I had to learn. So I keep all the good reminiscences instead of the bad. And all those good recollections are worth all the pain of the bad ones. If anything, those times gave me some people and memoirs to prize.

In two years, just two years my life changed. And what changed it, were the people in it. Be it the ones who left, or the ones who entered or the ones who stayed throughout and faced it all. The ones who left, thought me to be strong. They taught me, that all good things come to an end, and therefore I should not waste a minute in telling someone how much they mean to me. They taught me, that letting go isn't easy. Its a dark and grievous place to be. But once you get to the end, and you finally see the sun, all that pain and grief that led you to hate, you realize none of it was ever worth it. What was worth it were the lessons and moments that came from it.

The people who entered taught me to believe.Taught me to love and not expect anything in return. They taught me to see things beyond my world and my realm of contentment. They made me see beauty in the simplest of things, to acknowledge flaws and work on them. To appreciate everything that I am, and everything that I could be. Love comes in various forms, sometimes in ways completely unexpected. You dont only have to find that one True Love to gain happiness. It can be love enacted and expressed in ways unimaginable. And as, each new individual entered my life, I realized how in love I was. How in awe I was of these beings. Be it as a brother, a sister, a best friend,  an acquaintance, a mutual friend, or something more... I loved every one of them.

The ones who stayed throughout, were the ones who inspired and influenced me the most. Like fireflies in the dark, they lit up the path for me. Whether it was family or whether it was friends. Family showed me, that no matter what, they would never lose faith in me or fail to love me. When I needed picking up and fixing, they would put me together, because that is what family is for. To love and to nurture. As would my friends. They would stick with me through thick and thin, and like beautiful seraphs would guide and harbor me with their prayers. Whether they lived next door, in the same house or oceans away, I would never abscond from their hearts and minds as they would never depart mine. They would, as they have throughout, bring out the best in me and keep me beautiful within.
So, if I had a chance to go back and do things differently, I would. Because knowing what I know now, I would look forward to the departure of the ones that were meant to leave and eagerly await the arrival of the ones that eventually came to matter.

The Little Things. Like Turning 18.

Turning 18 isn't something great. In fact it just brings you a step closer to your grave. My best friend even mentioned that it was NOTHING for a Turtle who lived for over 150 years. (Yeah. That made me feel a whole lot better.)But when you have people who love you to celebrate it with, it brings in a feeling of nostalgia. At one point you want to scream at them for going through so many efforts, and in that same moment you want to hold on to them and never let them go BECAUSE they've gone through with it. Its not about the gifts or the flowers, or the birthday cards. It's just their presence that counts. You can make cupcakes with one, you can walk aimlessly around with another..while she hands you a SOCK for your birthday! You can spend every minute of everyday with 4 others. And you can just lend a listening ear to another. OR you can never even meet some of them, and they'll still be with you. The point is, they were, are and always will be part of who you are. Part of what's brought you to this day. Endless sessions of Harry Potter obsessing!! Salvatore and Winchester brother drooling, High School Musical singing, jam sessions and band rehearsals, boyfriend n crush teasing, doing childish things like watching animated movies in 3D, sitting on swings, making your own pizza and getting ice cream on your face, having late night pillow fights and games of I Spy. OR doing grown up stuff like downing bottles of Japanese booze and acting like a total badass! These are memories and little things that have etched themselves into your brain. And they wont leave you...not if you dont want them to. Life has its way of sneaking up on us. And being 18 comes with certain ground rules and responsibilities. You can't take on that responsibility until you are a mature adult. But when exactly do you get there? 18 ? Maybe...maybe not. But while you're sitting and waiting for that day to approach you, you're missing out on the most significant parts of your life...THE LITTLE THINGS.

So..Hold on to every day and every moment of your life. Whether its giving you joy or making you cry. And make the best of now. Don't hesitate or wait to see what happens. Its very rarely that you get second chances to make things right or bring back those memories! And after all you ARE getting closer to your grave! So, I say go with the flow. Take it one day at a time. When life wants you to be an adult it'll tell you, in some insignificant way. Dont rush to do things you dont want to. Just live the way you're supposed to.  

So, Enjoy life. Fall in love. Live in fantasies. Make mistakes. Catch the wrong train or bus. Get lost somewhere. And at the end of the day, make your life exactly like the way you dreamed it to be! (:

Daddy's Little Princess.

He holds her close to him. Close enough to feel her breath against his chest. She opens her eyes and looks up at him, a peculiar look lighting up the delicate features of her face. And looking back at her, he knows right then and there, that his life has changed forever. Nothing in this world could make him feel the way he does when he holds that little baby girl in his arms. Shes tiny and fragile, but at the same time strong in her fathers grasp. She was a fighter, right from the minute she was born. And he can see it in her eyes. His eyes. And in that moment, he vows to protect her and guard her with his life.

Its 5 years now, and its her first day of school. Shes excited but shes nervous. She doesn't wanna leave her daddy's hand, but he assures her that he'll always be one step behind. So she lets him go, and with confidence that her father will always be there to catch her, walks ahead. And he watches her, as she walks into the gate. In that polka dotted uniform, with those two pig tails. And he wonders when and how those 5 years passed them by. One minute, she was taking her first steps and saying her first words and the next she's walking alone into kindergarten. He wishes he could have those moments back. Live through them everyday. And with a tear in his eye, he watches as she reaches the door, turns around and blows him one last kiss before going in.

Shes 15 now, and shes growing up beautifully. Shes a teenager and her daddy's trying to cherish every moment with her. That is, whatever moment he CAN spend with her. Shes running to school, for classes, all on her own now. She's hanging out with friends, going for parties, sleepovers..and by the time she comes home, shes tired and wants to go to bed. Her dada watches as his little princess goes through life and the issues that it throws at her, and he wants to be a part, but somethings changed. He can't seem to reach out to her the way he used to. Shes in a phase where everything she does is right and its all rosy. And she loves him no doubt, but she's drifting away...Nevertheless, she talks to him when she has the chance or gives him a peck on the cheek before leaving for school, but she hasn't been opening up to her daddy and he can see it in her eyes. Something, he can't figure out what, has changed.

Now, shes 17 and that father-daughter relationship they once had, is almost diminishing. She still loves him and honors and respects him, but she cant find the right words to tell him how much he means to her. He wants to be there for her, but he just cant seem to find the right way and is too scared that the wrong one might push her away and end in chaos.

But as she turns 18, and has to make decisions that could change her life, and the lives of her family members, she KNOWS that she wants her daddy in her life, and she can't afford to lose him. Be it physically or mentally. He is her pillar of strength, her guiding light. He has taught her to be a fighter and to not let the world bring her down., he has taught her to love and appreciate life. He has brought her up to be the strong-willed, mature and beautiful woman that she is today. She knows that he misses that little girl who would make cards and write poetry that didn't really rhyme to show her daddy how much she loved him... Deep down she does too. And so now, she will do everything she can to make up for the times she wasn't there by his side. Because now that she's a little older and a little wiser, she realizes, that a father will only want whats best for his child. And she can't blame him for wanting to look after his lil baby girl.
So, even though she doesn't normally say it, and even though she doesn't openly show it, her daddy was, is and always will be the most important thing in her life. Even when she finds a man, who loves her and protects her just the way her father does, he will always be second in her eyes. Because her daddy will ALWAYS come first. And the man she LOVES will understand that, no matter what. She WAS daddy's little Princess, she IS daddy's little princess, and she ALWAYS will be Daddy's Little Princess... in Daddy's heart.

I love you Dada. Happy Father's Day. :)

An Author To Believe In.

Hatred and love are our biggest weaknesses. We love, we put our hearts out there and we get them broken.
We hate. And that hate turns into prejudice, fury and rage. It becomes a burden that becomes excessively heavy. But we carry it anyway.
We sit at home, safe and comfortable in our little bubble of bliss and we dream...of love, patience and tenderness, we believe... in magic and miracles, and we hope for forgiveness and understanding.
We are all so caught up in what we want and who we want, we fail to understand that its not in our hands.  True. Its our fate and our destiny...but its ALL in God's hands.
Yes, we shape our own futures, we pave our own path to greatness, we choose the people we love, but we wouldn't be who we are, without a little help from above. All of us are so hindered in this everyday drama that we call life, that we never stop, take a moment and thank God for everything that he's done. We build and make our lives, but its He who writes the book. Sits up late hours and finishes one chapter after another,editing and re-editing, proofreading, deleting, bringing in new characters, taking away the old... ultimately creating the stories of our lives giving each story its own uniqueness. He gives us what we want, what our hearts desire the most...well thats if it's meant for us and will bring out the best in us. The least we could do, is just let him know how much he means to us. And how significant his presence is in our lives.
So maybe it's time now, to just thank him. At least once or twice in a day. Like perhaps the first thing in the morning when you get up, or the last thing you do before you go to bed at night. You have a problem, a fear, a doubt, take it to Him. He'll solve it for you. He's planned your whole life ahead for you. You just dont know it. Because he's letting you call the shots. Letting you take the risks that you feel you should. And when you fall headfirst, he'll pick you up and mend you just like he created you.
So whatever caste, creed, or religion you may be, you still are, and always will be a child of God. So when you need someone to carry you through the dark tunnels that blur your vision of the future, close your eyes, say a prayer, thank him, and He'll be there. All you need is a little faith. Because after all, He is your creator. Your father, your light in the midst of darkness, the author of your story...and you are his child.

No, I'm not a saint, or a martyr or even anything close to that.
But I BELIEVE. And I know, my faith will take me places. And also because...I'M GOD'S FAVORITE CHILD. ^_^

Something Stupid.

Have you ever done something stupid ? Like really really stupid? Oh, who am I kidding! Of course you have. Everybody at some point in their lives have done something stupid. Stupidity sometimes is inevitable. It can surprise you, as well as the people around you because...well, its stupidity. But just because you do something stupid, doesn't mean that you should be judged and labelled a stupid dumb individual. Because believe me, even geniuses at times tend to make GENI-ASSES of themselves.
Stupid decisions basically come from the need to be impulsive. Sure, impulsive decisions sometimes are good. It makes you feel bad ass, and everyone needs a little bad ass-ness in their lives. Certain impulsive decisions have a good effect. Like randomly landing up at your best friends house and surprising her on a lazy day. But the other times, it just leads to a number of chaotic situations, which end up making you look stupid. Because most of the time you're not thinking of the repercussions of your impulsiveness. You're in the moment, and you just want to do it. Its that stubborn urge that you WANT to fulfill. 
However, even though these impulsive decisions make you look stupid, they also make you laugh. They make you think you're crazy and sometimes that's just what you need. I myself, am a pretty impulsive person and that has got me into A LOT of trouble and a number of embarrassing moments in the past. Some of the times, I've turned my instincts down, but the rest of the times, I've very SMARTLY landed myself in a STUPID situation. (Did you see what I did there?) But the thing is, I'm not ashamed. Sure, there are times when I look back and want to hit myself in the face...with a chair...but it doesn't change the fact that I dont regret it. I let my instincts take over and took a ride on the crazy train. So what. It was experiences and parts of what I would someday call the best days of my life. 
So, is it good to do stupid things or make impulsive decisions? Not really, no. But its not bad either. After all, you do need to have a balance between normal and crazy. So do stupid things. Put yourself in crazy situations. Make those prank calls and ask them if their refrigerators are running. Show up uninvited and crash a party...well actually, make sure its some one you know. You dont want to land up in jail and tell your children about that 10 years down the line. Catch a wrong train or bus, get lost in the middle of nowhere. It may embarrass you to a point where you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole, but 5 years from now, you could look back and think....Man, I did some stupid shit. And it will definitely tickle the funny bone in you. Cause at the end of the day, you wont get these years back. And then when the time comes, face your responsibilities, with maturity and sophistication. And BELIEVE that you'll do a great job and be a remarkable human being. Because you had the best childhood or teen-hood -or whatever you'd like to call it- that you could ever ask for or ever imagine.
So go all out, and dont regret the stupid decisions. Because everyone at some point in their lives have done something stupid.

Problems, Decisions. They never end.

Decisions, choices, problems they’re all an integral part of ones life. So many things to decide, so many choices to make. Who you want to be, where you want to live, what you want to become, who are your friends and who aren’t, who are the people worth risking everything for, and who are the people worth losing…these are questions, a few among many, that clog your mind. Some have it all figured out. It’s all well planned and prepared in their heads. Some are confused because they can’t seem to decide what the right choice is, and are too scared to make the wrong one. And the rest, well they’re all just stuck in the middle of nowhere. Lost…not knowing which way to go, what to do, or even where to begin. When I was a kid, the only tough decision I ever had to make was, what flavor ice cream I wanted to have. Strawberry, vanilla or chocolate? Of course there would be those additional add on’s of bubble gum and rocky road or roasted almond and mint. And although these flavors were mouth wateringly delicious, my heart belonged with chocolate. No matter what, no matter which other flavor caught my attention, I would ALWAYS come back for chocolate. Chocolate was incomparable. Rich, dark, creamy--- okay. I’m digressing. My point is, as a child, you never had to make important life changing decisions and choices. It was always about ice cream, or what toy you wanted Santa to bring you for Christmas, or what your favorite color was, or your favorite cartoon show.

And then suddenly, you’re all grown up and wondering what college you’re going to go to. What dream, what career you’re going to pursue. From that moment on, everything in your life is a blur. Like a roller coaster ride gone completely out of control. You want to get off…you want to make it stop… but you can’t. So instead you just sit and wonder when and how your life got so complicated. Does it help that your hormones are running wild? Hell no. You like him, he doesn’t like you. Problem 1. He likes you, you don’t like him. Problem 2.  You both like each other but are too chicken to do ANYTHING about it. Problem 3. Then there’s the problem of actually being in a relationship. First it’s all rosy and mushy and then boom! It’s over. Like it never even happened. Long distance relationships, non-exclusive dating, jealousy, insecurity, breakups, arguments, fall outs, that aching desire to run your ex over with a bull dozer. (Okay. Maybe the last one was a bit extreme, but I know of a few who might actually like that idea.) Not to mention, the ancient problems of peer pressure, drugs, alcohol and other vices. You would go to any lengths, be something, someone you’re not just to impress the crowd. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. As long as you look cool. All of these situations just add up to each other and turn into one nice big pile of problems. Sure, all of these problems are part of life. Part of growing up. But they’re problems nonetheless. They tend to affect your decisions and influence your choices. And the aftermath of those choices and decisions end up being another add on to the already over flowing pile of Godforsaken problems.

And all at once, you wish you could be 5 again, crawl under a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa and watch Tom chase Jerry around the house like a mad cat. And the only problem you have to worry about is not meeting your friends at school the next day. Which is also kind of a good thing, because you’re being allowed to skip school!! You don’t have to ask God, for anything, except that he take care of the ones you love. Oh, and that he convinces mommy to buy you that awesome teddy bear you saw at the store the other day. NO problems, no life changing choices, no impulsive decisions. Just you. The 5 year old you. Innocent, Happy and Free.  

BUT you can’t. You’re not 5. You’re 18. And that pile of problems is still hanging around. Neither is it going anywhere, anytime soon. You’re still going to have to make those imperative decisions and take those plucky chances. So all you can do, all you NEED to do is suck it up and face the storm. It’ll surely occur to you that you can’t do it. That you’re not strong enough. But unless you TRY, you’ll never know. And believe you me, you’ll be surprised.