Yet Another Year!

I'm done with teenage.

That's a horrifying thought.

The "threshold" of adulthood is past... and I'm about to step in. I cannot fathom how time seems to make a fool out of me every single time. How do the years flow by so quickly?

Nineteen. I turned nineteen today.

I don't feel fit to be nineteen... I'm not responsible nor am I dutiful. I'm still a childish, careless, carefree, irresponsible, rebellious, idealistic brat! I still cry and I still yell. I still run around when the first drops of rain come falling. I still hug my threadbare teddy bear to sleep every night. I still feel lazy to do my homework. I still don't know how to cook and I have no idea how to manage my finances. I still play around with my mom's lipsticks. I still roam around on my rusted ladybird cycle. I still giggle and get crushes on cute guys.

I am still the very same spoilt single kid.

What am I doing turning nineteen?

In Love

Crimson blushes
Sudden rushes
Full red roses
To bury our noses
Coy smiles
With bashful eyes
Lingering touches
Unexpected clutches
Stolen kisses
Repeated reminisces
Warm hugs
Tiny heart tugs
Sleepless nights
Clandestine delights
Hopeful dreams
Wishing in teems
Whispered words
Heart string harpsichords
Oh how I love
Being in love.

:)

Wishing Well

A very wise person once said, "Be careful what you wish for".

Well despite that one admonition that keeps ringing in my ears perennially, there are only so many predictions about the things that can go haywire with any particular wish, which I can anticipate before.

But seriously, which girl in her right mind wouldn't wish to look like Angelina Jolie?

To be specific, which girl who, within living memory, has always been a tad too heavy set? To be more specific, which girl who, within living memory, has always been a tad too heavy set and has heard more jabs and jokes about her appearance than the anorexic model, who was found to be a microgram heavier at her last check up? To put in succinctly er… prolixly, which girl who, within living memory, has always been a tad too heavy set and has heard more jabs and jokes about her appearance than the anorexic model, who was found to be a microgram heavier at her last check up; and who recently developed a humungous infatuation on a very much marry-able guy?

It started as a tiny itch in the back of my throat. After traveling thirty mind-numbing hours in the prime of the summer’s heat from my college in Warangal to my home sweet home in Trivandrum, it would be surprising if I had not caught any bugs en route. And of course, considering my maniacal ice-cream eating spree right before stepping on the train and abstaining from them for three months (there are quite a few things according to my mother the great, that are supposed to make me fat, and ice-creams are honoured A-listed candidates in that list) I was bound to get a sore throat sooner or later.

So as usual, I didn’t pay any heed to the irritating throat.

Will I didn’t until it felt like my mouth was on fire.

Everything started stinging and burning. Considering the typical spicy Andhra food I am used to, I thought mom had merely increased the spice content. At first it was only the pickles and the chutneys. Then it was any salty food in general.

And then… just food.

And before I knew it… everything!

Anything and everything that went into my mouth got me into screams and tears of agony. Right from my usually harmless pea-sized amount of toothpaste to water (screw you chlorine!), it felt like someone had hooked up a vat of sulphuric acid to my mouth and it was slowly trickling down my digestive tracts.

At home and not able to eat.

Biggest tragedy ever.

So now I’m sitting here, sipping from a bottle of mineral water with lips the size of hot dogs, I figure I am as close as I’ll ever be to looking like Angelina Jolie.

So ladies and gentlemen, I entreat you, wish well and wish me well.