Sassy Sensitivity

Too feisty, confident, sassy is how I come across as during an argument – sometimes in a positive connotation and sometimes otherwise.

Or during a heated emotional argument, I may come across as someone who doesn’t give 2 coins to what the other may say – strong and partially emotionless.

But when I storm into my room to wash my face afterwards, the water rinses out the placed composure. I sit back in silence to look at my ceiling and replay the words again and again and again and again. 

I pass through 3 stages, of different intensities.

Constant telecasting of what had happened in my mental cerebrum on repeat to digest every single detail.

Getting angrier with time thinking of what had happened.

And then, the stage that lasts the longest – self-blaming myself for what I may have done and victimizing myself to the things they may have said.

To put down simply, I’m sensitive.

Extremely sensitive.

Regardless of whether I tell the other or not, or display the same in front of all the strong self, I’m constantly affected by a either a silly or a level 20 argument. It’s like self-destruction, when you begin to believe you were the root cause to every problem or when you believe the negative things people might say about you or typically, in most cases, when you begin to believe you were all wrong in the way you posed or came through the argument.

It happened today with one of my best friends, and I pushed it away. Because for once, I think I’m doing what’s right for the long run. I did end up feeling as though I may have come across too harsh and ended up calling them. Only to fall back into an argument.

Which is exactly when I need to ensure the sass lies above the sensitivity for a longer period of time – even when I’m alone – to make sure I don’t go into those cycles of mentally hurting myself.

And this sensitive self is definitely a side most people don’t know about me, since it hides behind layers and years of building an impregnable exterior, when reality holds the fact that every word and action only breaks the glass it stands against.

Inspired by <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/a-mystery-wrapped-in-an-enigma/”>A Mystery Wrapped in an Enigma</a>

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Documenting High School

So earlier today, my friend asked me about my opinion about an essay prompt he was to write for his research application, which got me thinking.

It went like this: As you reflect on your learning experiences in high school, what has intrigued you the most and why?

It didn’t surprise me, when a number of things ran through my cerebrum at the pondering of that question. Four years worth of time spent, there were so much I questioned and spent nights thinking about.

1. The Quickness of Time –

I graduated high school about two weeks ago, but I remember ever so clearly the summer of 2011. I remember looking at the bigger history books and the seemingly impossible math sums that were engulfed in the study guides – I remember thinking how I was ever to survive freshman year.

It’s been 4 complete years since, and I cannot believe how much of change has took place in so little time. It’s like playing a video in fast loop; where did all the time go?

The minute hand on the clock ticks through several rotations, passing through short eras of your time, before you know it.

Time passes by quick – so quick that sometimes, you tend to have –

2. Regrets. 

Freshman year was pretty smooth, I worked hard to make sure I stepped up from rank 3 to shuffling between the top 2, to satisfy my ego. Sophomore year was pretty much the same for the first semester, but then, came the second. Friendships and Wattpad seemed to take over, and by the time I realized, it was a little too late to take back all the wasted time that was then unknown. The extremely possible perfect GPA just slipped out of my hands – almost there, but I wasn’t. The first pack of regrets.

Junior year, and I told myself to not repeat the same. Day 1 began, and I was on top of my heel. Towards the end of the year, the grades weren’t those of regret; it was the standardized testing. First attempt at the SAT didn’t go by too well, but the summer proved to be my key to re-solving the puzzle from the start. Second attempt went pretty well, and so did the forth coming ACT over the following semester. Second pack of regrets quickly broke down by streams of pacing right.

Senior year, regrets academically may have been the poor subject test preparation and realization that I hadn’t listened to my dad an year ago when picking IB subjects. But once again, regrets on this side were at minimum, while predicted grades, mid-term grades, college acceptances and summer school experience rose to a high. I was at my peak in my time during high school.

Yet, senior year holds my greatest regret to date. Spending time with the family.

Over the past 4 years, I’ve been so steered into focusing on the acads, I’ve given decreasing importance to the people right next to me through every step of time. And over the same time, apart from just the academics, I’ve begun to give in importance to other things of nature, from social networking to skyping. And as the quickness of time hits in, it’s too late to take back the lost time.

But I realize now, and it’s never too late.

I’ve been on a high since this strike of cognizance.

But most importantly, these years at high school have shown me that on a larger scale, there’s always going to be a constant opportunity cost, which will lead you to constant regrets of some kind of another. Time is scarce, and regrets are unlimited. It’s in the hands of the beholder to make her decision.

3. Possibilities in the Future – 

The future is untold, fate is unknown.

Don’t be afraid to dream, don’t be crushed when they might not happen.

So much has happened through the four years, that contained hills of riding up unexpected desires, and sliding down the regrets that may have affected my future.

But never give up; it’ll be worth it.

4. The Road versus The Outcome – 

Cliché as ever, but the road truly is above what is wished to be attained.

There’ve been so many times through my last two years of high school, where the goal/outcome was key, and the path to it didn’t matter 2 cents to the people. But, for those who travelled with core determination, the road seemed to show them more green valleys to travel forth into discoveries. When thought of positively, the road always led to her primary destination.

Or maybe, it could’ve just been a game of –

5. Karma and Time.

Years at high school, once again, taught me that good things really do happen to good people.

And to those who’ve experienced it, keep the same in mind as you continue to go forth in your being the gem you are.

But to those who haven’t, don’t stop believing. Karma doesn’t necessarily have to work quick, no. Rewards will come later, in form of what you truly desired, or otherwise, or just things that cannot be quantified – things like respect.

6. Relationships – 

Family, my backbone. They’ve been the ones who’ve put up through the various shades and alter egos I hold, and yet, despite the scary colors, stand with me every day. Not a single mark would’ve been made on this path or finding myself as the individual today, without them.

Friends, my given cheerleaders to every moment. Through the four years, there’ve been some who’ve come and gone, or stayed throughout, but people who’ve made differences that I would never phase out.

And then coming to, of course, taking a glance into the world of love, infatuation and mystery.

It’s an enigma, of how this simple connection can really switch moods around, make you feel so alive. But it’s ever so intriguing to wonder at the relationship between age and love – of course, there is never no minimum to feeling as such, but when do we really find love? What is love?

I see around me, several couples claiming that they’re in love, yet breaking up in a few following months. I see myself questioning the essence of it, but constantly denying the presence of it. Because to me, after these years of introspecting and observing, true love cannot be defined, nor can it be ever concrete that it has been found. But reason to why I’d say love is scary to experiment, on a personal level, at this age, is because we’re all so vulnerable, so young, so wild – differences in expectations, broken hearts and regrets once again are so possible.

Yet, after all this, I’d still end with an ironic note that there is the constant pull of the quickness of time, and you just run with the wind, chasing what you want, perhaps, putting away the put rationalization from above.


High school lessons, in a blurb.

There’s so many more introspections and observations I could never possibly list at one go – the beauty in simplicity, the awe felt at the herd mentality and changing notions of popularity, are only some of the many.

But to end this post, all I want to really say is that, high school shouldn’t be daunted like how everyone portrays it to be. Neither should we assume that college will really help us learn more than high school ever has. Because we’d be wrong.

We’re constantly breathing in environments enriched with implicit lessons; it’s how we take sight of them, how we place them in our radar and how we move them forth in our expedition of life.

Making Impressions

Age 3: Hiding behind my parents’ back, peeking to see the stranger woman give me a hello, to only wave a quick hand and hide again.

Age 5: Still shy, but stopped hiding behind and tugging my dad’s shirt from the back.

Age 6: Still shy, but every new uncle or aunty at a party knew I was the kid baby-sitter; always around the little kids, trying the hardest to make them all laugh and taking care of them like they were my dolls.

Age 7: Found out my unparalleled passion to public speech, and that became the added on trait people labelled me with – from family friends to people at school. Shy kid and stage lover? It was an opposing juxtaposition, but it describes me more than perfectly.

Age 9: Shier than ever before, but it was unlike ever before; new place, new people, new culture, new language – but constantly trying to maintain the same personality that proved to be the definition of me to the outsiders: calm, composed, a sweetheart.

Age 13: Not shy? Not introverted? What was starting to happen…

Age 14: Making friends was now a constant cake walk. Loud, welcoming, weird, funny, extremely carefree were just few of the phrases my character was shaped by, by the strangers.

Age 15: Shift of place once again – a smaller shift, yes; but a shift, most definitely. In the need of a perfect, new start, I wanted to be pictured with a new sketch. An extrovert, bubbly, always entertaining, constantly chattering, laughing at the littlest of things were not just what I was beginning to sound like, but with each deliberate attempt to be drawn different, I was also discovering myself at each step.

Age 16: New character, new self, new ideas, new self-discoveries tracked the one year. But in place of all the good, came the bad. The deliberate attempts weren’t meant to be fake, and they still weren’t…completely and additionally, with the change, came the physical insecurity. My first impression with another wasn’t going to take place without a planted bright smile, constant voice in my head asking me to make sure conversation wasn’t drying up, eyeliner on and concealer applied.

Age 17: Introspection was the key. Today, I stand so much more confident, and true to myself than ever before. A peoples’ person, truly carefree, a girl who loves to make pleasant talk and conversation and proudly naïve are what I personally describe myself with. The insecurity began to phase out, as I drew myself into watching, reading and writing so much about the modern obsession with beauty. The deliberate attempts mostly faded out, as I realized that I didn’t require the plastic; what I am is better than just right.


First impressions have always been something I place immense importance to. While they’re not necessarily the ones people stick themselves with throughout, they’re definitely the strongest. As someone who may seem to be carefree but holds a giant spot for sensitivity, I have a constant necessity to make sure I’m not disliked at first sight. And second sight. And the third. And so on. But over the past 2 years, while I haven’t had any enemies, there’ve been several misunderstandings and times when I stuck on to what I believed in which may have made another angry. Now, about those changes in impressions: they affect me too, to be honest, but I choose not to show them because to me it’s right versus impressions – I can come to peace when I choose the latter, but not the other.

The journey has been a swirly one, through series of metamorphoses – from an introvert to an extrovert, from being carefree to insecure to bouncing back up incrementally and to finding out a little bit more about life and people to make sure that I’m true to who I am and who I want to be.

dripping time

the clock ticks,

as I scoop in and watch the circular platform aligned with numbers.

tick tock, tick tock,

it says,

as though ironically hypnotizing me into a world unknown of time.

so much has changed,

in the countless rotations the two hands had taken;

changes that surprise, that hurt, that reveal the better or the worse.

i can’t sit still,

without my heart throbbing fast against my chest.

as much as there’s positive revolution that has transformed me,

my journey,

and my future,

there’s packs of possible regrets;

regrets that were always recognized,

but never worked on,

because there was time;

regrets that were held back from rationality with unfounded hope,

but never cued a different pair of eyes at,

because there was time.

but time’s running out now.

life’s too short to regret,

to throw at myself possibilities of what could have happened,

to cocoon myself from coming experiences.

clocks are only circles of time symbolizing life;

every tick conveying a lost opportunity that whisked away in the second,

and every tock reminding you of the same.

life and clocks aren’t meant to make people feel waves of repentance,

but to use the tides as new starts.

yet,

I scoop myself up to look at that circular platform aligned with numbers,

from time to time,

to live in a trance of dejection, possibilities and regret,

as the hourglass drips the sand within.

Young and Naïve

Young and naïve, we stood here through days of storming winds and sunny skies for over a period of a long nineteen months.

Yesterday – it feels like yesterday – we were up watching the fireworks, underneath a sky full of stars.

Yawning, I remember us fighting our sleep to talk about life’s adventures, mysteries and journeys.

Yosemite, was only one of the places we put down on our bucket list to visit when we grew older, that one night we had one of our classic deep conversations.

You and me, we promised we’d keep trying until it was time to come.

You and me, we’d been through so many swerves – we thought we were ready for the little bumps that would come by.

You and me, we didn’t realize complications were going to get in the way so soon.

Yelling, shouting, perfect storms, we could feel all the tables turn.

Yelping, crying, weeping in metaphorical tears in hope of keeping together what we once had, what we thought we had – only to realize that it was all to shed.

Yearning for the past, we held on to strings until they all fell loose and we were left hanging on to the last one.

Yesterday, the last straw finally broke.

You and me, we haven’t had the same connection as we did we first met hands.

You and me, we haven’t had a smooth sail in a while now.

You and me, we’re still so dependent – it’s quite scary.

Yet, realization that this time its going to be a stable decision for a while now, strikes.

Yet, you still give to me bundles of love that I will never be able to reciprocate.

Yet, while you give me space, you hold hope for the future to come.

Yes, granted, this may not be a period, but just a pause in our journey – it’s a probability of equal halves – two halves that I’m okay with.

Years from now, I’m not sure where we’ll be – what we’ll be.

Young and naïve is how we started, and young and naïve is how this chapter halts.

Inspired by: Fearful Symmetry