Prologue

Certain drafts are never meant to be published. Others take a long time before you build up the guts to publish them. This is one of those that you just carelessly press the publish button to, because to do otherwise puts way too much importance on the subject matter than it should. 

And the thing is, you I don't want it to matter.

She smiled, as she looked at him walking away after the brief encounter, with the easy confidence he has, the one that lets him make a fool of himself more than anyone ever should. 

And her heart sighed, just a little that he didn't turn back as he walked away. Because as ridiculous as it may seem, what with the crowd of people and the cacophony of noises between them, she still hoped that he would. 

And she slid herself into sleep, thinking of what could have been, what should have been, what probably will never be. 

She was just another girl, mediocre in every way she believed herself to be, and he was just another guy, annoying, stressed, worried and, well, annoying. Yet it was interesting how it tugged at her heartstrings every time he smiled, and the tug becomes a pull if he looked at her as he did it. Who cares what the conversation is about when the -his- smile is in view? Who cared what the gossips were as long as he was talking, making up all the you've-got-to-be-freaking-kidding-me-for-coming-up-with-that-absurd-story kind of tales? 

And so it happened. But she vowed never to let herself believe it happened. Because being on the other side of the fence is not all the cute and awww-inducing as it sounded from far. It was just plain messy. Like it would be if you thought the grass was greener on the other side, and then walked over there, tripping over barbed-wire fence just to realise it wasn't really grass, more like a bed of roses, without the roses. Just a carpet of stalks covered with thorns. That some may be delusional enough to enjoy. Because hey, if the stalks are there, the roses should be around the corner, shouldn't it? 

And when the subject matter seemed to be dumber than a bag of doorknobs, refusing to take a hint, all she could do was walk away, pretending none of it ever mattered. Because when pride is at stake, nothing else seem to matter. And because she was willing to let go of her pride, it scared her. So she held on to it even harder, digging her fingernails into her pride so much so that it started hurting even when she considered letting go. But all the grasping left her no energy for much anything else. 

So she came up with a game plan, with the velocity of that of de-gnoming a garden. About a hundred acres worth of garden. And set forth to the job. Because it seemed like the right thing to do. And because she demanded it of herself, to be rational, logical and strong about it. 

Because it was demanded :P

I'm writing here because i have to. sort. everything. out. 


And because not a lot of people knows of its existence. Which by the way, works out more than fine for me. 


So i've been "insanely happy". Not my words, someone else's. The problem is that it makes sense. Not having done anything significant, not having done anything proper, all the shirking away, all the excuses (and I'm not being kind or harsh, just stating plain facts) and yet I'm still jubilantly happy. something is wrong. Not because I'm a generally unhappy person, but because i refuse to see myself as.... insane. NO MATTER what ANYONE says. 


So this time it's not about random thoughts that flow. It's not about words. It's not about anything. Just plain hard facts I'm trying to wrap my head around. Because if you don't see it and let it get the better of you, you're not going to be grounded to reality for long. And i need it. I need reality. I need steadfastness. Because an early morning, a really early morning and peaceful chirps of birds had gotten me to realise one fact. One infinitesimally small fact, life, in all of its.... intensity, means the world to me. i CANNOT, WILL NOT live in my dreams. EVER. 


Cold hard truth beats cushioned, cardamon scented, lies any day. 
Not that i don't like dreams. i LOVE dreams. Hell, i thrive on it. But it just doesn't do. Simple as that. Because there is a fine line between being a dreamer and being delusional, and I'd like to imagine I keep my eyes open and focused for the better part of the day. 


Talking about dreams, it's interesting how life .... never stops handing out dreams, excuses to keep you happy. Maybe excuses is too harsh a word. More like, reasons. A million reasons to be happy everywhere in your daily life, if you just bother to look at it. 


Of course, it may sound like I'm generalising, but come to think of it; if you're actually sitting back reading this instead of doing something more important, then yes, your life probably has a million and one reasons to be happy, despite all the grieve that may or may not be present. 


But no, I'm not talking about the normal, I'm smiling because it seems like the best expression on my face kind of happy. I'm talking about the oh-my-god-I'm-gonna-start-bouncing-around-smiling-at-my-phone-giggling-even-when-I-am-walking-around-alone-because-the-Earth-is-the-most-beautiful-place-to-be-in kind of happy. 


And chances are, there's usually one specific reason behind it. 


No, reading on does NOT tell you what the reason is. OR maybe it does. It depends on you, how free are you? 


Stepping down is a huge deal. I don't know why. All I know is that it hurts, just a little, to think about it. It feels hollow, just a little, when you imagine walking down the stage. It aches, just a little, when you think of all the happy memories you had together, and how the reason for all that is being taken away from you, and how, it's gonna take a lot more to make them after this. Because it's not what's expected. Because you can't voice out all that you want. Because everyone will move on sooner or later. Because you'll probably be o stuck on the past you can't figure out what the present even looks like, and whether the future even exists.   


Because, no matter what, nothing will ever compare to it. 


So, before i go on with the journey of untangling my irrevocably screwed-up brain, just a shout out of "thanks for being there" "will always remember the memories" and "i love you guys" to all FOUR HOUSES that meant a lot more to me than I'll ever be able to admit when facing any normal functioning human being. Simple shout outs, but they had to be taken out. 



Though to be honest I'm hoping they either never found this, or will stop reading around this part; despite all the rational still-partially-functioning-parts of my brain is telling me this is a bad idea. That with the number of professional stalkers in there, I'd be lucky to leave the school without this spreading. 

But blogging is.... like a pact, between you and the keyboard and the screen. And you can't break a pact, or make a flimsy half-hearted one. It's like the damned unbreakable vow. And I owe it to myself to sort my brains out in the hope of being more logical and rational less of the emotional-with-tug-able-heartstrings tomorrow. So yes, i shall continue purging. 



I have no idea what the entire thing up there's supposed to mean. But I had to get it out, and I did. And who knows, when i look back at it a few years from now, I'd laugh at the immaturity that encompasses it. That's what I did to all my previous posts.... 


And the other thing that's been bugging me all week. I, uh, well, how do you put it? ... I...found out something new... about... myself... 


And I was relieved to see that I wasn't mortified by it. Okay, so maybe a little. In the beginning. It's a first after all. 


If it's a first. 


That's my whole damned problem. I can't freaking figure out if it's a first, or it's just a ... graduation goggles thing. Though graduation's far from getting here. 


But I don't think I enjoy it all that much. And I have this principle on only doing things i enjoy. Not DOING doing, but you know, doing things. like reading, writing.. the normal stuff. So yeah, and it took me a whole damned week to reach the revelation-inducing-thought-provoking-insight-producing-burn-your-skin-hot-till-you're-a-freaking-lobster shower, where i figured it out. 


If i only do things that i enjoy, and i can't stop doing that one particular thing, then i might as well enjoy it. 


Yeah, i know. must be pretty slow if it took me a week to get there. But people generally tend to be pretty slow in dealing with things they don't want to deal with. It's like.... leaving that band-aid stuck on a wound because it's easier that way. Plus it's not like anyone knows its there. It takes a while before you get to the whole, yeah, I'm going to just rip it off, because then it'll never hurt again, and I'll not be constantly reminded that the pain was there. 


It takes a few go before it goes to the : I'm ripping it off fast, because I've had a lot of practice, and I'm cool that way. 


First band-aids are the hardest. 


Maybe my friend was right when he said getting used to scraping your knees when you're younger makes you stronger, prepares you for the world. 


I'd like to believe I'm hardy enough to not use a band-aid till I'm sure i can't stop the bleeding and heal the wound with plain exposure to the atmosphere. 


No need to be hasty. 


But it's nice to be able to smile. At existence. At everything. Hoping real hard your skinned knee gets better before anyone realises it's been skinned. Because fuss is the last thing anyone would want. 


Because someone else might be sad you skinned your knee. 


Because you don't want to get it inspected and find out it's more than just a scrape, and you need the emergency room. 


Or, worse, GOD, the operation theatre. 


Okay, that entire thing *points up* doesn't make sense. At least i hope it doesn't. Because it makes waaay too much sense to me for me to be comfortable about it. 


But I wrote it, so that's entirely understandable.


Stupid pact, or I won't be publishing it. 


All I can say, perhaps, maybe, hopefully, it's not all that bad a thing after all. Maybe I wasn't the only one who fell off a tree. Maybe both knees were scraped when cushioning the fall.... Maybe that means I won't be limping for long. 


Damn that pact. 


P.S. I don't think having a clear, sort out mind is all that better. It's still screwed up, apparently. A little less messy, but still screwed up. 


P.P.S. I am gonna give it my all trying not to cry tomorrow. In school. Today's a whole different story though. 


P.P.P.S Thanks for being there, and making me smile, even if you meant to do the opposite.