My 26-Year-Old Life in a Blog

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I don’t think this is the life I imagined for myself as a girl heading towards 30. I did say, girl. I don’t feel quite like a woman yet. I often compared my life to the overly successful 26-something ladies and wondered if I’d get there. I often compared my life to the horrible 26-something ladies and wondered if I’d wind up there. But somehow, I’ve gotten to neither.

I set an alarm for 6 every morning. I wake up at 8:10 when I’m supposed to be at work before 9. Did I mention work is 30 minutes away? Yep. I get through my day with 80% work and 20% chit-chat. I enjoy it. That’s something I was afraid I wouldn’t. I never wanted to be in my “prime” years, hating what I was doing. So I’m glad.

I want to wrap up at 5:30 every day. I end up staying there past 6 EVERY DAY. I make plans for coffee. For a quick dinner. For a drink, maybe. That sounds ridiculously old. “I catch up with friends for a drink after work.” That’s the new normal now.

I make plans and I always show up late. I was never late. I’m now always late. I smile, I laugh and I make eye contact as I say, “Cheers,” while I text fight with the one constant in my life not tied to me by blood.

I sigh through Thursday nights wishing it was Friday. I get so much done on Friday because I wish I could get to bed fast. I’m still out at 1am on Saturday morning wishing I’d worked on that ONE LAST THING so I didn’t have to work the weekend. I wake up past noon wishing I’d woken up sooner. I Netflix all day wishing I could turn it off and get some chores done. I start doing chores wishing I was Netflixing instead.

I skype. I text. I watch as my calendar fills up and my bank account empties. It’s the last four days of the month and I’m counting pennies until the salary kicks in. But payday isn’t what I imagined it to be.

Because now, you’re right. I do get a lot more money than my parents gave me for pocket money. But my expenses are sky high, too. Did they tell you about this magically horrible thing called BILLS? No, they didn’t. Because learning about subatomic particles was more important than bills. I don’t even know what subatomic particles are anymore. But here’s what I do know. I pay bills. Every first day of the month. And then my bank account reduces by half. And then I pay this incredibly crazy thing they call, “Taxes and Pension Fund.” I know taxes help keep my city safe and working. I know it. I wish they’d all had other ways of income so I can afford to do some retail therapy after that texting fight I mentioned before. But no. I pay it. I mean, I also need to have money when I’m 60, right? RIGHT? No, I’m not right. I don’t want a pension fund. I want money. To eat out. To have one extra drink. Why is there no rule that you don’t pay pension fund in your 20’s so you can have a life and then you start saving at 30 for your 60’s? There should be, right?

But there isn’t. So I live on 1/4 of the money I make after one month of waking up at 8:10 and staying at work till 6:30. And I repeat this every day, every month, all year long.

And I spend my Saturdays feeling like I have all the time in the world to do chores and Sundays wondering why I slept through Saturday. I get to work on Monday wishing my boss hasn’t reached yet and smiling while scared when I realize she did. CAN SOMEONE TELL ME HOW BOSSES HAVE THE ABILITY TO WAKE UP AND GET TO WORK ON TIME? LIKE HOW? I MEAN THEY HAVE FAMILIES. THEY WAKE UP, THEY DEAL WITH FAMILY AND STILL GET TO WORK ON TIME! I only have to deal with me. I don’t even eat breakfast. I wake up, shower and show up. But I’m still late.

And this repeats. Over and over and over again. I meet with friends from college. We can now stay out past 10pm! WHAT A REVELATION! My friends and I can travel! – That’s not really approved though. I’m just pissing some people off in the process. Do I also have to mention the many people I piss off by not texting back because I was in a meeting, then I was working, then I had plans and I totally thought I did!!?

I deal with, “You’re old enough to be married,” and “Are you dating someone? We can get you married to him.” I find myself repeating, “I’m not into the idea of marriage.” Then the elderly continue to tell me why it is important while I dream of a weekend in Bali and tune the other voices out. Sometimes, I also dream of pizza. I mean, come on. It’s PIZZA! It’s the poor man’s Michelin food.

I fight with my best friend. I show up at work sulking. We fix our fight. I go out  saying, “I’m not drinking.” I come back stumbling. “Which way does this key go in again?” I hate myself the next morning as I get through four cups of coffee. I tell myself, “I’m never going out again,” as my phone rings and my next plan is made. If you’re wondering, no. I can’t afford this. But we do it. Because if I wasn’t drowning in credit card debt in my 20’s, am I really alive?

And so this continues. I pay the bills. I spend the money again. I pay it again. I spend it again. I drink. I swear to never drink. I drink again. I set alarms I sleep through. I buy shoes I’ll never walk in. I buy clothes I don’t have time for. Don’t even get me started on make-up and self-care products. I’m not awake long enough to be self-caring. BUT OMG! Did you see the new face serum?

And then, as the month draws to an end, and I sit at home broke on a Saturday evening that feels like morning because I just woke up, I write a post after quite a few months to tell you all, “Here’s my 26-year-old life in a blog!”

Is yours the same?

To You, Thank You

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You. Yes, you. The one with dimples so cute, I knew I was a goner before it even began.

You. The one who made me laugh silly on dark days, I could feel my heart swoon all over again.

You. The one whose voice turned my world upside down. The one who made me realize I’d never felt this way before. The one who had me fall in love like I didn’t know was possible.

Thank you.

Thank you for constantly keeping me on the edge.

I was the girl you wanted to talk to. But never those three words.

I was the girl you wanted to kiss. But not the one you wanted to hold.

I was the girl you drunk dialled at midnight. And the girl you pretended to not know when the sun shined.

Thank You.

Thank you for not nodding your head when I cried my heart out.

You see, it would have been so easy. If you’d said yes. Your life would have been easy. Because I would have done everything I could to make sure it was. I would have stood by you during your pitfalls. Your tears  made me cry. Your laughter brought me joy. You were the centre of my universe. You always would have been.

And I would have been so lost in my love for you that I would have never noticed. I would have never noticed that anger you often can’t control. I would have never noticed the way you knowingly speak hurtful words. I would have never noticed that opinion you had of me when I wasn’t around. I would have never noticed the way I’d given it all up for nothing in return.

And when I did, it would have been worse.

Thank you.

I know you don’t get it. You think this is a hate letter. You think I’m sore and angry. But here’s what you never noticed about me.

I’m not that girl.

I don’t spread rumors about the boy who broke my heart. I don’t make snarky remarks just because he does. I don’t bitch about the one I love.

And I will always love.

It won’t be as overpowering as it once was. I’ll move on. With someone who makes me smile by just existing. And I’ll live a life filled with love and chaos with him. But ten years from now, if you decide to make me your one phone call, I swear I’ll come bail you out.

Because, contrary to what you so strongly believe, love isn’t an on and off switch. You don’t just fall out of love and go on like those emotions never existed. It’s always there. In the bottom of your heart. Buried under a lot of hurt and broken pieces. And I have learnt to live with that. I have learnt to dust off those extra shards of glass and pull my chin up. I have learnt to wipe my tears and make myself smile. I have learnt to love but know when to hold back. And I learnt all that without you. I learnt all that because of you.

And that’s exactly why I deserve better.

So Thank You.

For letting me have the ability to find someone who’ll love me for me. For giving me the time and the space to know who I was in your eyes. For forcing me into knowing how to take care of myself when everything within me is falling apart.

You.

I promise, someday, when I’m sitting on a patio surrounded by my grandkids, I’ll tell them about the guy who showed me what love feels like. And I’ll have a small smile as I remember the first time I found myself wanting to lose myself to that voice. To that laughter. To you.

And that’s who you’ll always be. A far away memory. Because sitting with me and correcting me as I spoke about our story will be the man I once longed for you to be.

Hence, my love,

Thank you.

For not saying “I love you too.”

Accepting Yourself

This is something I struggled with for years. We all have those things about us that we wish were different. I had a million.

After I wrote that above statement, I stopped. For an entire day. I didn’t know what to say. The concept of accepting who I am, no matter what, is still new to me.

I grew up around people who were prettier and smarter than I can ever imagine being. All of them following a set of rules their societies, culture and families had created for them. And I didn’t belong. I felt lost. Sometimes, alienated. I found reasons to explain what was wrong with me. I was defensive about everything.

Recently, I posted a blog about understanding the fact that we’re all different and how we should accept each other for who we are. Sure, it’s tough to do that. But there’s only one thing that’s tougher. Accepting our own individuality. Taking pride in who we are. Even the ones we think are absolutely perfect and flawless have a problem with this. They all have things they want to hide or change about themselves. And I don’t get it. Imagine if we could just accept ourselves for who we are. Our positives and our negatives. If we wore our flaws with pride and say “Yeah. I’m like that. It’s what makes me different and unique.”

For instance, a kid walking through the hallways at school when a bully looks at him and goes “Hey shorty!” What he really expects from that kid is for him to cringe about his height and hang his head. But instead, if the kid looks right back at the bully and says “Yeah, I’m short. What about it?!” I’m sure the expression on that bully’s face would be priceless. People always expect your weakness to be the one thing that sets you apart. But I believe that it’s what makes you different. It makes you you. And that’s not a flaw. That’s your strength. There is a power that comes with accepting that.

I spent a major part of my life wishing I was someone else. I’ve prayed and begged for a different life. A better body, a better family, a better home. I believed that I had a horrible life. Then I met people who had it worse. People who would give anything to have what I have. To live the way I live. To look the way I do. I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve had days when I had no idea why. Why would someone want to look like ME? Want this life? But this is the truth. It’s difficult to accept but there are people who have a whole lot less than you and I do. People, to whom, having an education and the ability to read what I’ve written, feels like a privilege they will never have. And I stopped comparing myself to the ones who had it better. When I felt ugly, I remembered the scarred. When I wished for a different home, I remembered the homeless. I started to feel fortunate. To feel lucky. But those are still just external factors. No matter how hard I tried, the inability to accept who I am as a person never went away.

Until a few weeks ago.

When I think about it now, I want to laugh at the number of years I’ve spent feeling like there’s something wrong with me. In a world filled with people who followed a set of rules their societies, culture and families had created for them, I always felt like I didn’t belong. I felt lost. Sometimes, alienated. I tried to find reasons to explain what was wrong with me. I was always defensive about everything. Never, in all those years, did I think for even a moment that there wasn’t anything wrong. I was just different. I wanted different things. And all I needed to do, was accept that.

I read somewhere –

 “There is a magnificent, beautiful, wonderful painting in front of you! It is intricate, detailed, a painstaking labor of devotion and love! The colors are like no other, they swim and leap, they trickle and embellish! And yet you choose to fixate your eyes on the small fly which has landed on it! Why do you do such a thing?” 
― C. JoyBell C.

I believe that painting is simply you in a mirror. That image of perfection is who we are. And when you accept that person, the world will fall into place. Yes, it’s difficult. But it’s not impossible. It takes time and patience. Just like accepting a partner in a relationship. Forgive your mistakes. Forget the criticism. Embrace who you are as a person. Believe me when I say, there is a beauty in a person who has the confidence to show off who he truly is. Yeah, there will still be those few bullies who try to “fix” you. Honestly, they’re not worth your time or energy.

You are your life, your experiences, your emotions, your love, your battles, your scars, your heartbreaks, your talent, your wins, your loss, your looks, your world, your struggles and above all, you are YOU. And always remember, the best thing you can do at the worst moment of your life is to just simply ..

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Doodle Artist : ME 🙂

Poems from the Past

It has been a rather sick week and I didn’t get out of bed for the most part. The only two things that kept me company was my sketchbook and this little guy :

Dala

As someone that gets bored very, VERY easily, staying in bed is possibly not the ideal way I’d like to spend my days.  As and when I felt even a little better, I tried to do something or the other. One of those things was to clean up my old bookshelf. I swear, bookshelves are the only thing, no matter how much you throw away, they still make you feel like a hoarder. And amidst those books, I found a special something.

We all have those things we loved doing when we were younger but just quit with time. Things we quit for no reason. The thing I quit was writing poems.

I used to love to write poems. I was in 3rd grade, I think, when I started. I stopped when I went to university. I don’t know if I grew out of it or something. I just randomly stopped. I highly doubt I’ll ever start again. I’m one of those people that just keeps finding fault with her stuff. So I’m possibly going to tear up page after page if I every try again. But anyway, when I was cleaning, I found my old poetry book. Since I’ve been sick and haven’t really had much thoughts whatsoever to rant about, I thought, I’d share my two favorite poems, from the bunch that I’ve written, with you.

A little background information : The first one was written right before I started university. I’d written a poem for a friend that is pretty much like my brother and the guy I was with at that point made a tantrum asking me to write one for him. So I did and hence, the cheesiness. Please don’t mind. The second one, I wrote when I was in 9th grade. I was about 14 years old, I immensely believed in fairytales and it was written whilst day dreaming about my “knight in shining armor” during Science class.

 

SANTA’S GIFT – 23rd May 2011

“You’ve been a very good girl this year”

“Thank you, Santa”

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours”

“I want..”

 

Ten years down the road

I think of that day

When Santa asked me what I want

And I said “I want..”

 

Time went by

And I lost all trust

In Santa’s honest words

Until that July

 

When I remembered that day

Santa asked me

To tell him what I want

And I said “I want..”

 

The first date, The first kiss,

The first touch.. The way you look at me

The first time my heart itched

To hear you tell me you love me

 

Forever, it’s not enough

But today, I won’t complain

Sometimes, love is rough

But with you, I’m me again.

 

When I was a little kid

Santa gave me one good wish

He asked me what I want

And I said “I want..”

 

“I want an honest man

Someone who will love me for me

Take me to the moon and back

Live his life just for me..”

 

That July I got my wish

When I found you and I realized

Santa thinks before he gives

Something I was mesmerized with.

 

Santa said to a little girl

“You’ve been good, what do you want ?”

She pointed at you and told him softly

“To be everything he’ll ever want..”

 

 

I’LL NEVER LET GO – 2007

If this is a dream,

Let me never wake up.

If this is reality,

Let me never sleep.

 

If this is a maze,

Let me never get out.

If this is the world,

Let me scream and shout.

 

If this is day,

Let the moon never shine.

If this is night,

Let the sun never rise.

 

If this is him,

Let him never go.

If this is me,

I’ll never let go..

 

 

Happy Easter 🙂

Understanding the Differences

In a world of over-achievers, I’m a mediocre. I live my life in a way that I see fit and not everyone understands or approves of it. But that’s every one of us, isn’t it?!

My brother has a book coming out called Ketchup & Curry. As he explained to me the concept of the book, I started thinking – We live in a world that is unbelievably diverse. What I saw in Los Angeles,  I can never imagine seeing in my city and it works the other way around as well. So what happens when one of us decides to go and live in a place that is filled with people who couldn’t be more different than you are?! How do you live in a foreign country surrounded by people who are unlike you and still live peacefully and happily?

I’ve travelled quite a bit. My passion is to learn and understand different cultures and someday, write about it all. I need to be the most nonjudgmental human being on the planet to pursue a career out of that. Like I’ve mentioned before, my parents raised me saying “thou shall not chill with a man who is not your brother, father, family or betrothed.” When I first moved to a foreign country, the first couple I saw making out on the street were both women. Here’s the culture shock – you don’t kiss people in public. If you’re older than 20, your own father will flinch when you try to kiss his cheek in public. Then comes “OMG ! THAT’S TWO WOMEN !” But I thought that was the most beautiful thing. The freedom to be who they are and not having to hide. I lived there for about four months. When I left, I no longer had the need to judge people for the choices they make out of love. That was the first thing most people didn’t understand.

When I started university, my classes were only a few hours a day. I had plenty of free time on my hands and I spent three quarters of them on YouTube. Have you ever been so bored that you started out with a music video but a few hours later, found yourself in that weird part of youtube? That happened to me. I was watching Paradise by Coldplay and somehow ended up watching videos of people with Gender Identity Disorder and videos of Transgenders and their everyday struggles. In my city, the only kinds of transgenders I’d encountered were the ones who usually come and ask for money. When you say no, they try to bully you into giving them money or whatever it is that you have. So whenever I saw them, I’d get scared and try to walk away. But those videos forever changed my idea of them. I never realized how incredibly nice they can be if you just understand them and accept them. You know when you’re the black sheep in the family and everyone’s giving you the cold shoulder and you just look at them thinking “My friends understand. Why can’t you? Come on ! A little acceptance would be nice!” Imagine living life like that every day. But you’re not just asking your family. You’re asking the entire human race (with the exclusion of a few people here and there) to understand you and accept you. I might not be their best friend, but I stopped running away. I chose to stop and give them an answer when they asked me something. Sure there are some of them that are thieves and cheaters. Tell me a time when a man or woman you trusted wasn’t a thief or a cheater? We’re all human beings and the least we can do is treat each other the way we’d like to be treated. In a society that already lived like that, I learnt to accept them and live in peace. That’s the second thing most people don’t understand.

I still meet people who are completely different from who I am. I meet people who make choices I can never imagine making for myself. “She had six boyfriends in the past” is a statement that is approved in one culture while looked down on in another. Judging the people who disapprove of it isn’t going to make my life any better. But that doesn’t mean I have to change who I am. Every person is entitled to their own opinions. I can’t control my thoughts about things. Similarly, the other person’s thoughts are his own.

I can be cheesy here and say “Please let us love one another.” But that’s a statement that won’t ever work. We can’t all love everything. So let me tell you what I’ve learnt in my life – “Yes, we’re all different. We may not all have the ability to accept our differences and love each other. But the least we can do is to keep the hate to ourselves. Stop the stupid fights on comment sections. Stop comparing. Stop name calling. You do your thing and let them do theirs. If you don’t like something, walk away. It is not your place or in your right to judge someone who likes it. You can go ahead and live your life the way you want to. But the next person’s life is theirs. It’s their choices. It’s their interests and if they screw up, it’s their consequences. Unless you’re asked, don’t give your opinions. It’s as simple as that. Remember, who you are is insignificant when you’re gone. It’s the words you say and the actions you do that you leave behind..”

In a world of over-achievers, I’m a mediocre. I live my life in a way that I see fit and not everyone understands or approves of it. But nobody gets to judge it. Nobody but me.

And that’s the only thing I wish people would understand.

Beauty…

We all have those unanswered questions we wouldn’t dare ask in fear that someone might call us stupid. Here’s mine : What is beauty? A perfect winged eyeliner? A Picasso painting? A genuine person? A generous heart? Why? Can anybody really explain beauty?

Wikipedia tried : Beauty is a characteristic of a person, animal, place, object, or idea that provides a perceptual experience of pleasure or satisfaction.

Pleasure. Have you read The Fault in our Stars by John Green? That book just about killed me. It was in no way a pleasurable experience. But I thought that book was absolutely beautiful. I cannot explain why.

I decided that the best time to get my question out there without being labelled stupid was now. Hence I started with the closest of friends and family – “I’m doing research for my blog. What, according to you, is beauty?”

I got the typical answers – Beauty is my girlfriend. Beauty is the love of my life. Beauty is a genuine person. Beauty is a loving heart. Beauty is confidence. Beauty is perfection. Beauty is anything that makes you feel good.

Then I asked them “How do you say that? What exactly makes you use the word ‘beauty’ towards those things?”

I got one answer : “I don’t know. I can’t explain.”

That’s the thing. Nobody knows. I was almost on the verge of giving up when someone I know gave me her definition of beauty :

“By the magic of sight , anything which on looking makes me feel fresh.
By the magic of my palette, anything that tastes and gives me the yummy yum yum
By the magic of my nostrils, anything that gives the fragrence which I want to capture”
I didn’t ask her how she came to that conclusion because to me, that answer was beautiful.

She might not have nailed it, but her explanation was something I couldn’t question. Beauty was her accepting the simplicity of the complex things in and around us. Beauty was that she noticed something no other person I know did. Beauty was that she found it magical.

I wish I was someone that could figure it out and give you scientific facts. But I can only talk about what I’ve observed.

When I look at Miranda Kerr, I think she is so cute. When I look at Meryl Streep, I think she is dynamic and utterly gorgeous. But when I look at Angelina Jolie, I think she is beautiful. There was a time when I hated her. But as I realized just how much she gives to the world, I began to love her.

There was an Indian celebrity that I used to love. I thought his talent was unbelievably amazing. His grace so utterly beautiful. A few years ago, his personal life took a hike. His behavior during that period was everything I stand against. From that day, every time I see him do what he does best, I see an asshole. I think to myself “Look at him, trying to cover up his act with grace. He can’t fix what he’s broken.”

I’ve noticed that our perception of a person or a thing changes when the story about them changes. I used to love Romeo and Juliet. It was the most beautiful love story on the planet and an incredible one too. Then I saw the movie Shakespeare in Love. The idea (which I highly doubt is true but is the story of the movie) that Romeo and Juliet was based on an affair that Shakespeare had, ruined the book for me. Ruined the love they shared. Whenever I pick up the book, I no longer feel like I’m reading a beautiful love story. I feel like I’m reading a scandal report of how a man cheated on his wife.

Our emotions define the beauty we see. When the girl we hate looks absolutely perfect, we don’t see beauty. We say “I cannot stand her and her perfection! It’s so fake.” But when the person we love looks like crap, we see a beauty we can’t define.

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder. It is in his heart. It is in his emotions. It is in his love.

Beauty is the book that makes his heart yearn. Beauty is the song that reminds him of happiness. Beauty is his family and a place he calls ‘home.’ Beauty is the girl he fell head over heels for. Beauty is his first pet. Beauty is the way his mother takes care of him. Beauty is the doll he’s had on his bed since he was two. Beauty is the unforgettable connection he had with the girl he met at a party weeks ago.

It might be painful. It might hurt you. But if you love it, you’ll find beauty in it. We can’t all love the same person, the same book or the same movie. There arises the difference in our ideas of beauty.

John Green had me falling in love with Augustus Waters and Hazel Grace. He had me falling in love with their stories. With their personalities. And no matter how much that book kills me, I will always love it and I will always think it was beautiful.

Because love doesn’t always come from a place of joy or pleasure. Sometimes love comes from pain and hurt.

And hence we call it Beautiful…

Speak Now , Live Now

Cory Montieth, 31, died in July this year. Paul Walker, 40, died in a car crash on November 30. Someone else I know, 23, is battling for his life for over three months now. It’s sad. It’s depressing. It’s shocking, really. None of them ever thought this would happen to them… Their age makes me think “For all you know, it could be me..” What if it does end up being me?

Before YOLO became the biggest thing on the internet. Before I knew anything about the internet, an incident.. or should I say disaster?.. changed my life, changed the way I live it.

December 26, 2004.. Earthquakes and a Tsunami destroyed lives, destroyed families, destroyed homes..

I was supposed to be at the beach with my father that morning, but I’d overslept. I woke up and jumped with joy about leaving and my parents told me there’d been a Tsunami. I had no idea what it meant but with time, I understood it and I wished I hadn’t..

I’ll never forget what it did to me. I remember the TV ads asking for help. I remember switching channels because I couldn’t listen to that music, couldn’t watch those images. I remember crying under my blankets praying for those lives and those children who just lost their parents.. I remember my mother telling me about this woman who’d killed herself out of depression, a child who’d had a heart attack because the ads were too depressing. I remember wanting to help those kids. I even took a bag of my clothes and went to the beach, to the families living in tents on the streets because their houses were gone. I gave them clothes and in minutes, my car was surrounded by kids asking for food and clothes.. I was terrified, depressed, pissed with the universe..

How many people woke up that day with plans? How many had had a fight the previous night and told themselves “Today, I’ll fix it..” but never got the chance to? For one second, forget the dead.. Imagine the ones sitting at home who never got to tell their loved ones “I love you” “I forgive you” “I need you” “I miss you”..  Praying they were the ones dead and not the other person.. Hoping that the people searching the waters find their loved ones’ body so they could go ahead and do what they had to? Imagine waking up late on a Sunday morning, turning on the TV and realizing, your friend, your family, someone you know was probably dead by now. I always imagine someone with a coffee cup turning on the TV and dropping that cup with shock..

I swore to myself, it doesn’t matter if the other person doesn’t want to hear it. I’ll always tell everyone – the ones I like, the ones I love, the ones I hate – how I feel about them. I will never miss an opportunity. I will make the most out of my life. As a teenager, all it did for me was get me into trouble. But with time, experience and a lot of mistakes, I’ve learnt to fine tune that attitude. I’ve learnt what LIVE NOW means to me. What SPEAK NOW means to me.

It may not always mean the same to everyone. But to me, Live Now means doing something with my life. Helping myself and everyone else around me. I’ve learnt that Live Now does not mean I have to go bungee jumping and skydiving as soon as possible. It means I need to help the ones in need. So even if I’m gone, I would’ve made a better life for someone who gets to live.

And as for Speak Now, it doesn’t matter whether it’s my parents, my siblings or just a crush, I have and will continue to tell them what they mean to me. I’ll tell them how much I care and how important they are to me. I’ve learnt to keep the hate to myself though – Because if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything..

So here’s a piece of advise to anyone that’s reading.. Do you have a dying need to do something – for yourself or anyone around you? Do it today. If it’s a long-term plan, start working on it. Do you have a loved one? Tell them today. What if you never get another chance?

“You’re not the person I fell in love with”

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My Friend and I were recently talking about his break up and he said to me “One and half years. That’s how long any relationship that’s serious lasts.” But why? I know for a fact that there have been more break ups now than ever, thanks to the Facebook and Whatsapp world. But is that all the reasons? When you commit to someone and you promise to be with them for as long as you live, what makes you take a step back? What changes love to hate? I gave him the one reason I believe is true.

Relationships are everywhere. It’s shoved in your face everyday, reminding you of what a lonely life you live. And us single people who talk about how incredible our lives are, now that we’re single – we’re lying. It sucks. We just won’t admit it. To ourselves or to anyone else. But then there are moments when I’m glad I’m not in a relationship. Moments when I sit on the phone with my best friends and hear them cry about the person they love. Whine about how much that once oh-so-perfect person is now someone so completely different. You can now see the “true colors” of who he/she really is.

But what if that’s not the case? In all the need to get into a relationship so as to stop being lonely and single, a person, girl/guy, tends to pretend. Not in a bad way. But say it’s a girl trying for a guy. She wants to dress the way he likes, talk the way he likes, act the way he likes. She wants to impress him so much that he believes this is it. She’s the one. They start dating. She keeps pretending. But at some point, she stops. She’s unhappy. She’s not herself. This ends in one of two ways –

– Huge tantrums and fights because she believes he ruined her happiness. She rebels from him.

– She stops pretending and slowly starts bringing her old, true self back.

Both of this isn’t ok because it’s going to ruin that relationship. If she rebels, he’s going to think she’s not worth it, she’s changed. She tries to turn back into herself, he’s going to think she’s not the girl he fell in love with, she’s changed. It’s the same when it’s the guy changing for the girl. In some relationships, this is the 4th month fight. This is the first big fight the couple has. “You’re not the person I fell in love with.” Most couples walk away at this point. They believe they deserve better. But then there are the few that say “I don’t care, I love you too much.” But how much can a person adjust to change? How much is too much? A year? A year and half?

There are the rarest of rare cases when the couple lasts a long time. But the couples that truly make it are the couples that never lied. Never pretended to be someone they’re not. Like the saying goes, I’d rather you hate me for who I am, than love me for someone I’m not..

..because that love, it won’t last !

(Pic Courtesy : Google)