So much me.

“What are you going to do with your life?" In one way or another it seemed that people had been asking her this forever; teachers, her parents, friends at three in the morning, but the question had never seemed this pressing and still she was no nearer an answer... "Live each day as if it's your last', that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn't practical. Better by far to be good and courageous and bold and to make difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if you ever get the chance.” 

- David Nicholls, One day.

These past couple of months have been like a whiplash for me. Introspections, Intospections, Introspections. (Double that) There was a mammoth of turmoil that had been infesting on my heart, sucking up all the flavours, gulping it down with immense satisfaction. More than that, when I was questioned by my friends that why do I look so spooked these days, I just shrugged and said, "feeling..umm..a bit empty".

I am 17, I am that stage of my life where with each step I am writing the destiny that lies ahead of me. And to tell you the truth I am clueless trying to figure everything and everyone out. Every day has something different to offer, every one changes overnight. I miss so many things right now. Like so so so many things. Growing up sucks. I miss Rocky- my cheeky 'elder-brother' of a dog. He would've have been 18 this year, if he was here; fooling around with me. I miss my Grandad. What a man!
Liberal, funny, kind, loving.
Probably he's the only person who would set everything alright with giving me just the required piece of advice. He knew me inside out. He's the one who inculcated in me, the habits of reading and writing as a kid. By the time I had reached class 5, I had already taken a liking towards Robert Frost and Khalil Gibran, while children my age were busy toying around with pokemon (don't blame them though; always been a bit of a weirdo) And the best part with him was that he was always eager to learn everything new. I still remember, teaching him how to eat wontons. He was one cool man.
Won't talk about him much. Thinking that he's not with me anymore saddens the misery out of me. But, I sure as hell know, that he's watching over me from his place in Orion, with a Sidney Sheldon book in his hand. And he were alive right now, we both would probably be hotly debating about India's take on homosexuality. Capital offence? seriously?
Miss you, Dadu. A lot.
I had my exams recently, and I spent much of November locked up in my room, only coming out by Dad's-"Time for Lunch, beta" and Mom's- "Are you alive, in there?" Saying books and music are helping me going through these weird phases lately, is an understatement. They help me miraculously. Anoushka shankar, lana del rey, John Mayer, Broken bells, Ynidi halda, lots of books and sleep have been amazingly helpful.
God, I am sounding like a person who's been asked to join the Al-Qaeda and can't make up her mind!
Nevermind. I know this post is nothing but a summing up of what's been happening all this while. And I am here to assure you, that I'll have a few post's of fiction coming right up. This was just a little part of me screaming out a bit of self-assurance that- I am going to be just fine:)