The diary of a confused teen.

She was your average teenage girl, going through life’s worries just like any other girl, going through the pressures, stresses and pleasures of college life. She was happy, exceedingly so, however much she may whine about it, with this arrangement. There were no teenage dramas or boy dramas unfolding around her. She had a peaceful life compared to others her age. Did that make her different? Yes, she guessed it did. Did it make her want to have some drama in her life? She grudgingly agreed that maybe a teeny bit of drama would do her no harm.

The saying ‘Be careful what you wish for’ clearly wasn’t taken seriously by her. Because really, if you ask me, which sane person who is happy with their life would wish for more drama to complicate matters? Apparently she would. And bam! Hello, complicated teenage life.

It all started a while back for her  when she met this guy. (It’s not really surprising considering most teenage dramas revolve around guys.) Met actually doesn’t cut it. He was a friend of a friend and she was set up with him. On the day she was to meet him for the first time she almost had an anxiety attack and to make matters worse, she wasn’t even keeping well at the time. But she did meet him, and he turned out to extremely nice and she had a lovely time.

From there on, it’s pretty much been a roller coaster ride for her. She’s wary of meeting new people because she’s shy with new people (certainly not with people she’s become close to over the years). And it amazed her exactly how comfortable she felt in his presence. Or how there was no awkwardness when they spoke over the phone. How they could have a two and a half hour-long phone conversation after they’d just made their acquaintance with each other, and yet it wasn’t even slightly weird, with no awkward pauses and she barely knew so much time had just flown by. She still maintains she barely spoke but he thought otherwise.

And yet she knew that she wouldn’t date him. They’d probably end up as spiffing friends but she knew for sure that they wouldn’t end up together. She knew he kind of liked her. Even that didn’t make her change her mind (even though her friends are rooting for her to date him).

So what changed then? Honestly, even she doesn’t know. There was a lull in their conversations a while back because she was so busy with exams and assignments. She had no time to breathe let alone have a conversation with anyone. So their conversations gradually fizzled out but they didn’t completely die out. They still spoke whenever they could.

She didn’t give this a second thought till one day in class her professor asked them to write a love letter. A love letter?! Her initial reaction was one of annoyance. It was 8 in the morning. Most of the class was half asleep and she didn’t have a love interest to write a letter to and she was much too sleepy to make up an imaginary love. But then, his name did pop up in her head. Would it be a letter of love? Certainly not. (She believes that being a teenager and being ruled by hormones one can’t really fall in love at this age)

But it did get her thinking. She knew she didn’t love him. She was scoffing at the very idea. But she also didn’t know what it was.
Because she had time in her hands now. And they were talking. Not every day but often enough. Often enough for her to start anticipating his messages.   Often enough now, that the thought of him messaging her made her just a little giddy. Often enough, that his name popping up on her screen could make her smile a little.(She, however, claims that that only happens because their conversations are usually hilarious. I can only roll my eyes at that.)

But that did get her thinking. Why? Why was she so happy at the thought of messaging him? Why did she eagerly wait for his messages? Why did they make her so happy? She knew it wasn’t love but maybe it wasn’t completely platonic for her anymore. She honestly doesn’t know. And it’s always going to be there, nagging her in the back of her mind, until she does figure out what it really is.

I guess all she can do is give it time. But the lesson I’m taking away from this is – You really should be careful what you wish for. She was so much more happy (and turmoil free) without all the added drama. So really, don’t let your hormone riddled brain make any wishes.

Daily Prompt: Far from normal.

Many of us think of our lives as boringly normal, while others live the high life. Take a step back, and take a look at your life as an outsider might. Now, tell us at least six unique, exciting, or just plain odd things about yourself

Because no two people are the same. What then is classified as being normal? Who knows? I don’t know if these ‘quirks’ are normal but I can say with certainty that they certainly are unique.

1)  I get high on lemon iced tea, like seriously high. A high that affects my ability to form words and everything.

2)  I can begin laughing for absolutely no reason. And god forbid, once it starts the end doesn’t seem to be any closer!

3)  A hardbound copy of Pride and Prejudice makes me go as giddy as a little kid given free reign in a candy store. With the bouncing on the balls of my feet and clapping my hand and all that jazz.

4)  I haven’t come across any other person who absolutely detests the smell in the air after the first rains.

5)  I hate anything and everything sweet with the exception of ice cream! I could survive only on ice creams if I had it my way.

6)  I’m secretly in love with James Potter. Shh!

Dabbling in photography.

In a way I guess this is something I’ve always wanted to do. To venture into. But It was only a few months back that I actually took up a camera and gave into this desire. A few of my friends who are into photography finally pushed me over the edge to do it. I’m still figuring out how to use my camera to its maximum potential and I’m still a novice at this (obviously) but I would love to know what you guys think of these pictures and any tips to help me improve would be greatly appreciated!

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If only…

He’s the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

He’s the embodiment of a Greek god in a simple polo and jeans.

His hair, always messy and windswept.

His muscular chest, a bed of warmth to my soul.

His arms, always ready to catch my fall.

His voice, a drug to my ears.

His words, oh so eloquent, the pathway to my heart.

His smoldering eyes, igniting dancing flames of passion.

His look, so intense, pleasant shivers run down my spine.

His touch, gentle yet strong.

His caresses, so tender, leaving a trail of fire on me.

His hold, the best comfort to me.

His chivalry, making me feel like a royal lady.

His lopsided smirk, melting me into a puddle of mush.

His laughter, music to my ears.

His antics, an aid to my unstoppable laughter.

His humor, a bid to brighten my miserable day.

His playfulness, bringing out the crazy in me.

His patience, a gem, to be able to deal with me.

His actions, stealing away my heart and soul.

His love, the best thing that happened to me.

His existence, just a figment of my imagination…

 

 

Burning Hope.

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The night was engulfed by an eerie silence. No crickets chirping away. No owls hooting softly down at her. No wolves howling in the distance. The castle itself was silent. No creaking doors, no giggles erupting from her maids chamber, no footsteps to be heard. It was a quiet night, too quiet for comfort. She gazed through the window, at the world that lay outside. There was no moon in the sky, no shimmering silver light dancing atop the tree tops. The night stoically stared back at her with a dark, blank gaze not giving her what she was looking for. It was too quiet and too dark. She knew, she knew in her gut that something had gone terribly wrong, that something had not gone according to plan.

The lone candle in her bedchamber was clearly showing the lines of anxiety and fear evident on her pale but handsome face. Her eyes however alight with hope in the warm glow of the burning candle. Her silk and muslin dress billowing in her wake as she paced up and down the chamber.She was wringing her hands in her anxiety. The flickering candle light was throwing wicked shadows on the walls around.

She took a deep breath and sat down on her unmade bed. She stared at the shadows on the wall. They seemed to be  growing larger, looming over her, like the constant fear in her heart. The walls to her; appeared to be moving in towards her, constricting her. Her dread and unease was suffocating her, consuming her. She could hear the hooves of thousands of horses; the clang of sword against metal shields; she could hear the war cry. She could see the bloodshed; she could see the mangled bodies. She closed her eyes tight to block out these mental images her idle mind kept conjuring up. No, it wouldn’t do for her to lose hope now. She was fighting to not succumb to the numbness, to the fear. She gripped the canopy in her hands to steady her thoughts.

He would be alright. He’d fought all his battles himself. He was the bravest and the strongest warrior she knew. He would come home smiling, rejoicing in the victory like he always did, she pacified herself. But there was that gnawing feeling in her heart which told her that something was different. That this time it would be different.

She  got up and went to the vanity and pulled open the topmost drawer. From within she picked up a small box and opened it. Within it was a locket, a  ruby heart. “I want you to have this, love. For even when I am away, my heart shall be right here with you” he had said. It gave her a small amount of comfort now clutched within her palm. It made her pensive. It made her close her eyes and reminisce all those wonderful moments spent with him, just the two of them.

Lost in her thoughts, she was jolted back to reality by the sudden strong gust of icy wind blowing in. The wind tasted of loss and despair. A shudder ripped through her, the heart still clutched in her hands, her hair whipping her face. Something seemed to snap in her. Her heart seemed to be disintegrating, seemed to be breaking apart. She knew it deep down. Something had not gone to plan. The gust blew out the only flickering candle, like the loss was about to blow away all her happiness.

Despair and pain were heavy in her voice as she choked out only one word in a strangled whisper.

“Father!”

Ebooks or Paperbacks? Which one will it be?

We live today, in the 21st century, an age in which technology has come a long, long way. Once upon a time there were the huge, heavy computers, now we have ultrabooks. And the internet – which we can say is the lifeline of people all over the world. The entire world is available at our fingertips. Just one click and – there you go. You’ll get whatever it is you’ve been looking for.

With this kind of progress it was hardly a matter of time before ebooks made a sweeping entrance into this tech savvy world. Could this be any more convenient? Thousands of books at our disposal anywhere, everywhere. First it was just the fat, heavy, mobile phone which was, at the most used to send short messages and make calls. But now we have super slim, super-fast phones with touch screens which come with an infinite number of applications. And the 2G and 3G have made life easier. We can now access books through the internet on our cell phones, tablets, laptops. Thus books have now become portable. You can carry end number of books along with you in your pocket. You can read anywhere you want to.

But somewhere down the line the novelty of it wears off. My eyes, after a while start to ache from staring at the screen for so long. This then consecutively gives me a head ache. And all the scrolling up and down really puts a strain on my eyes.

Besides..

There is just some sort of magic in holding that tattered book, which you’ve read an end number of times now, in your hands. It’s almost like the book is talking to you. “Hey there. Long-time no see. I’ve missed you and your touch loads. So go ahead and open me up.” That book almost seems to be seducing you.

But you feel this sense of comfort holding that book in your arms, turning the old yellowed, crinkly pages, hearing the rustle and crackle. No sound is sweeter than that. Or the joy you feel when you’ve purchased a new book and you open it. The smell of a newly purchased book. It’s intoxicating. The pages crisp and bright.

The feeling when you hold the book, and because it’s tangible, the happiness is manifold a hundred times when purchasing a paperback instead of an ebook.

Or the feeling when you know that you can curl up in your niche with a blanket, your dog by you, your favourite book and maybe a cup of coffee. Or the immense joy you feel looking at all your paperbacks arranged on your bookshelf, which inevitably happens to be my most beloved spot in the house.

Remembering which scene took place in which page, or remembering that your favourite dialogue was placed on the left hand-side page, the third line in the second paragraph.

You don’t find these little joys and wonderments in an ebook. So for me it’s going to be the paperback. Hands down. Always.