I want to become a journalist. I want to find people and stories and I want pull angles out of thin air and I want to always be learning and creating and giving in a creative way. I want to be engaged and focused and excited and collaborative with a fiery passion. I want to try to understand how the world works and then I want to convey it in the words that fit.

What do I do now that I’m not good at it at all?


“I enquire about therapy.”

A chapter.

Welcome to the drinking game!

Have a zero/low calorie drink every time you get hungry!

Let me know if you’re interested in playing. It’s so much fun. Extra points if you mention your beverage of choice!

Warning: teeth staining may occur.

Comment number of drinks you’ve had below so we can all get super competitive!!

i don’t know what i

struck a chord~


i don’t know what i
am doing on my best days,
let alone the rest –
sleep is always over-
or underrated and never
quite the solution

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Turbulent thoughts


I’m forever floating in between acceptance and disheartenment and the will to change. Even though the last one is more like illusion, my weak spot, the previous step to my inevitable failure.

This could be about a lot of things. It is true for many. But I thought this for how I feel about my body (at that time)  (like everything). (I’m way too preoccupied with my body and others).


How can you BE happy? Not a question I have an answer too, nor one I’m asking an answer for. But one I’m incredulously asking everybody. HOW can you be happy?


It’s been one good day followed by two bad ones.

There’s this quote that seems to define me right now, “What’s the point of making my bed in the morning when I’m going to sleep in it at night?”

(at least that’s what I think I was referring to because it was incomplete)

It’s like I’m underwater and I open my eyes, and everything is clear in the start (as clear as it can be under water), and then as the seconds (days) pass, my vision gets blurrier and blurrier, only getting more blurrier. Till I can’t see at all. Till I’m forced to close my eyes. Till it happens all over again.


my eyes are shut in the shower

and in their place, take my hands
rounding all the corners, edges, curves

measuring the size
of my thighs

hoping to find bone sticking out
only to find fat hanging out

while i lather on soap.
-too much skin-

my eyes are shut in the shower

to avoid seeing
for seeing leads to feeling
under the mountain of doom

finds me covering
in despair, desperation, self loathing and hate

hence it finds me
covering my eyes.

my eyes are shut in the shower
yet to no avail
for my hands are there to take over
and scale every inch of the place.
-too much skin-

Harbouring memories of a stranger

The other day, I went out to throw the garbage, when I stumbled onto something.


It was a small box, cardboard, black, covered with paper on a few sides.

On the front side, on a square piece of white paper, there was a little picture of two cracked eggs with two kids peeking out of it. The text around said, “Oh Hello there, Papa. This is just a small gift of appreciation for all the things you have done for me and Didi (sister in Hindi). Open it Papa.”


On the bottom side to the front, it had, “Happy Birthday; Surprise box”, inscribed.


That was it. Oh, and it has an ornamental heart taped to it on the front too.

Inside it, it had a paper envelope. The opening read, “These are the gifts Papa. And Papa, Enjoy Yourself.”


Even inside I found a little piece of paper with a sweet little drawing and some words behind.

They read, “We are a great family to the three you are our only hope.”

Just below, was a tiny plea, “Please always keep us three happy.”

My heart was floored.

This little child’s creation of sweetness for their dad’s birthday found me smiling and full of memories. I felt as though I had stumbled on a private piece of someone’s life; one that we, the lucky ones are fortunate to have but don’t appreciate or be thankful for enough.

Through out our lives, me and my sister have made sweet little cards for our parents, much like the one I found.

In similar practice, these cards are given to the respective parent, liked, kept and then over time lost their value. Sure, my parents have always kept these cards, but their importance vanes and they become forgotten.

This lost piece of memory found it’s way into my lap and my heart. It reminded me of me, my family, of jagged pieces fitting together, of small favors, of just being through the good, the bad and the ugly.

I suppose we can only blame human nature for it settling where I finally found it. But that’s all right I think, another birthday will come around soon enough to change that.

Till then, I’ll be hoping this box reaches the hands of another, and it does what it did for me for them.

For nostalgia’s sake,

A day in youth

The thing is that, I’d like to do something spectacular in life. I’d like to do something amazing and I plan too.
Except I get caught up in the present.

I get caught up in my life, in my head, in my world.

And it’s one of the sucky things about life. What’s going to atter later in life or in the long run doesn’t weigh on you in the present as much.

But the fact is, today is just tomorrow in disguise.

And I get caught up, I lose myself in tv shows and I lose my self in the stuff I have to do and I loose myself in the silly things and sad things and just surviving.

To be honest, I’m still learning how to survive. I’m still learning to come to terms with doing stuff with my life. And I’m failing too. I do all my assignments last minute and I don’t even do the things I’d like to do in the time I don’t do my assignments.

So as for becoming who my goal is to be, I have no idea what that is. I’m in-between and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

And then there’s my head.

My head, well, is indescribable. It’s a weird mess of all things. I can’t sort myself out. I’ve too much in my head. And I get distracted too fast. I need to be reminded of to breathe and in all that I forget what I’d really like to do. And further down that road, I’d like to do too many things. So I’m fucked.

And in this moment, this line from Lost Stars speaks to me,

Tell us the reason, youth is wasted on the young.”

It’s like a sick joke. Because I spend so much time on insignificant things. And yet I’m full of potential. And I’m in this place where I’ve got few boundaries. This is prime time. Yet.

I’m always trying to be who I want to be.
But I’m caught up.
In the present.
In the distractions.
And my head is a disaster.
And I’m a mess.

Is there all that is it?