You Do Not Know Me.

You do not know me. You think you do.

Between the tall glasses of milkshakes and cups of coffee,

You think you've figured out the whisper behind my smile.

As you look into my eyes and I into yours,

You think you know the story behind my brown eyes.

You do not know me. You only think you do.

Our laughter beyond the sound of music,

Between your rolling secrets and my hidden candor,

You think you've read me like a book that never

belonged to you.

But you do not know me. You only think you do.

My ideas, my ideals.

My stories, my grief.

My tears, my promises.

My darkness, my pleasures.

You think you know it all like your ecstasy.

You think you've touched every layer of my soul.

But you haven’t.

For you, I am always a mystery.

One that never unfurls for you.

For you, I am always a mystery.

SUNDAY SUNDAZE.

When I was a teenager, I terribly wanted to be treated like a grown-up. When I was fifteen, I wanted grown-ups to appreciate me for the kind of books I read instead of treating me like a kid. When I was sixteen, I wanted them to ask me for music suggestions than treat me like a clueless teenager. And when I was seventeen, I could not wait for my eighteenth birthday. To be eligible to vote and to be officially entitled to do all that I ever wanted. When I turned eighteen, I would shove it in everyone's faces that I was an adult. Every time, I had an argument with my parents, I would strictly tell them that I was eighteen and that they cannot talk to me in an indifferent tone.

Clearly, I could not wait to grow up. Clearly, I did not realize being an adult would be only about buying brilliant pairs of clothes and shoes while trading the little joys of life. Clearly, I was quite signing myself up for a grand disappointment.

At 24, I am doing things that I should have done as a teenager. I read Young Adult fiction and enjoy it. I watch sappy teenage drama and sitcoms of the like. I mean, being an adult might not be as bad as it sounds, but being 17 was a lot merrier. At 17, you are spoilt for choices in myriad ways. Something that being an adult doesn't offer you on a silver platter, and the worst part is you want to behave like you are still seventeen. Reckless, with no responsibilities and lead a life where you don't have to think twenty times before you act.

On the contrary, I was rather organized as a teenager. I was one of those geeks who finished college assignments on time and did things with a conviction that 24-year-old Sunaina hasn't mustered yet. I had all these amazing plans that I would wear only black and white formals to work as an adult but I wear Spongebob and Batman merchandise often. What's worse? I hated Taylor Swift as a teenager, but these days, I listen to her more often than I should.

I could go on and on with this list, and there will be no end because what the hell, I am Benjamin Button-ing!

Wow.

What Are Your Fears?

What are your fears? What terrifies you? No, I am not talking about spiders or crocodiles, dark streets or heights. I am referring to the patterns of fears that keep you awake till the wee hours of nights.

Do you have insecurities?

Because I have tons of them.

Copious amounts of them.

On a regular day, what are your fears and insecurities? Let me tell you mine.

The alarm on my phone goes berserk at 6 AM reminding me that it's time to do something productive and that I need the discipline to achieve things that seem too far-fetched. But on most days, I snooze it. Later, on feeling guilty, I wake up groggily at 6:30 AM only to end up staying in bed till 7:30 swiftly going through Twitter, Gmail, Facebook...basically everything social media. And Instagram. How can I forget Instagram? I live like my existence depended on it. Every morning, I look at so many beautiful pictures taken across the world on the screen of my phone.

I look at the pictures of Paris and keep troubling my mind if I would ever see the place or not.

I look at the perfect pictures of women with clear skin and sometimes, I don't feel very thrilled about the acne on my face.

I look at the pictures of couples holding their hands and staring into the sunset and feel a throbbing pain wondering if someone would ever love me that way. I look at those pictures and hope someone would not wake up one morning and stop loving me as if it was once a petty hobby.

I look at more pictures, assuming, always assuming that their lives are so much fancier than mine.

As I while away my time till 7:30 AM on Instagram, I realize my day is just beginning. I drag myself out of the bed to get ready for the job I love doing, the only thing I probably look forward to on weekdays.

Yet another thought of insecurity creeps in. What if one day I fail to put words on paper? What if I turn into a person with no passion?

During lunch, I am constantly worried about the amount of food I am eating, counting every crumb I eat and eat just one slice of pizza even when I crave more. I mean, the nature of my body is prone to put on weight. Like everyone else's.

Oftentimes I have a feeling of trepidation that I am missing out on life. That I am hurting my friends or attracting idiots. In both the cases, I end up in tears. I'm perpetually afraid of getting hurt.

It doesn't end right here, because, on my way home from work, I curse myself for not reading enough. For not doing more. For consuming lots of coffee. For being selfish. For not being a part of the important events in my friends' lives. For not picking calls. For ignoring messages and emails. For taking impulsive decisions. For being fragile. For being just me.

Yet my Instagram profile states otherwise. Like I have no fears or insecurities.

But I have tons of them.

Copious amounts of them.

Not Your Regular Trainwreck.

In this incredibly small life, we meet different people. Some great, some not so great. And some incarnations of Satan. Our life offers us all kinds of people, which is brilliant, because who doesn't like a bit of variety?

Unfortunately, we do not get to choose the kind of people who walk into our life. However, we are all fortunate to choose the ones we want to leave behind. We are in luck with that area of our life.

Where am I going with this? Well, let me just begin.

I am a 24-year-old writer. I have a good job. I have amazing friends. I like to be in control of my life and generally, I am. But, I could be a trainwreck too. What can I say? I have my horrid 'Can-I-Vanish-From-The-Face-Of-Earth' days too. And what else can you expect from a regular 24-year-old who is still trying to figure out what she wants from life? What can you expect from a 24-year-old who still has a little girl trapped somewhere inside her?

Before I digress any further, let me tell you more. I have opinions. Strong ones, weak ones, false ones, lame ones. I am unapologetic about expressing them. If you are a woman and you have an opinion that you're willing to put out in the open, I am hundred percent certain that you'll have haters, people who pit against you, and often to your surprise, people from your close quarters -- people who you think are your friends. It is sad that a few try to snatch your free will. It doesn't matter, of course. You'll still find hundreds of people (sometimes strangers) who say nice things to you, encouraging you to keep doing all that you do. To be all that you dream to be. Like I already said, we meet different people.

On an average day, when I deeply concern my mind with such mundane thoughts, I came across this quote by Amy Schumer. Amy Schumer is one hell of a woman and she is totally loved for speaking her mind out. It made me pick my pen and write this.

I could be clumsy, awkward, and like any normal person, I am bound to fail. I am not effortlessly at ease with a lot of things in my life and I could be a highly impulsive person. But I do realize and understand that I cannot become someone like Sheryl Sandberg overnight. It takes an effort to be like that and quite surely even she had to work hard to be that person. For most of us who expect to become things overnight or people who pass disdainful remarks at us do not practically realize that great things take a great deal of time. And you don't become great in a snap. You need to go through rejection, pain, failures, duh. But listen, no one decides to call you a trainwreck or bring down your self-worth.

Because you are your own story and you are not a regular trainwreck.

Problems.

There are problems. There are problems everywhere. There are days when I wonder where do all these problems come from? Who creates them? Who solves them? Obviously, no one really knows.

If you are thinking what sort of problems a 24-year-old woman (or mostly, girl) could have, I could list out a couple of them, but most of them are created in my head. I overthink and overanalyze. I break down a rather rudimentary thing into millions of bits and end up creating an issue with every bit. And you know what's the best part? I don't even know why I do that.

I always thought I was an isolated case. That I was the only person who had a nasty habit of thinking and analyzing too much. It looks like a lot of people around me are slaves to this habit.

But then how do you really stop thinking about something that's troubling you into the wee hours of the night?

P.S. I watched Airlift today and it is a beautiful movie. Each and every scene of the movie is so well made. Also, this happens to be the first time I've watched Akshay Kumar's movie on the screen. I am a fan.

Look, Look, Gibberish.

Well, well, what a week!

I do not know when Monday came by and left, and I do not remember how it led to Friday. I have written so much over the past 5 days that today, I just want to stay still. I just want to watch really good movies till late in the night and go to sleep. Do you know that feeling when you're really drained out but still have that inkling feeling that you've had a great week? I've had a week like that, and I love my work. Although I must admit, I have ignored most of my friends this week.

On my way back home, I was consumed with various thoughts. My music player played the same song throughout the drive, and I was perfectly fine with that. I scanned my contacts list but did not have the urge to talk to anyone. I felt detached. I felt I needed silence.

When I was in college, I had a number of friends. Quite obviously, I had to part ways with a few of them after graduation. In due time, more friends parted, and a few moved to different countries. Soon, I stopped making efforts to maintain relationships even though I did not want to be left with only reasons. Eventually, that is exactly what happened. A friend from college used to constantly complain about the number of friends I had and kept making, and about how often I wanted to meet them. I vividly remember the number of times he would ask me, "Why do you need so many friends, Sunaina?" But it did not stop me from making more friends. I did it as easily as I left every time a friendship strained. Today, when I was reflecting on the relationships I've built over years, I know that I have only a handful of friends -- friends who have stood by my side, friends who fought for me, friends who never let me go when things strained or friends who let me be when I ignored them. While at so many levels, it sounds crazy, I think it comes full circle when I think that people who are meant to stay in your life will stay. Even if you are being a first class jerk. Even if they are being world class pricks towards you. Because these are the sort of friendships that come without any limitations. That's the beauty!

P.S. I know this post absolutely made no sense, but hey in my defense, I have written way too much this week and I am glad I was still able to type this gibberish.

Would You?

What if you woke up one morning to realize everything you did so far is just a dream? What if you woke up one morning and realize that the 24 years of your life is just a bizarre dream? Not a good dream. Not a bad dream. Just a tough dream.

What if you woke up one morning and realize your life is the version of 'normal' you've always craved? There is a picture perfect family and that the things that are broken are not really broken for real. I mean, what if you woke up one morning and realize that you are not what you are and that your miseries aren't yours?

But would you want such a day to come your way and let you change your life in one go? Would you then deny your story, your struggle, and your essence?

Would you?