Once upon a time, there lived a girl who thought she was unbreakable. The others, they felt sorry for her.

“She’s delusional,” they said. “Everybody breaks sooner or later. It’s the fact of life. How can she lie to herself?”

“She thinks she’s unbreakable because she’s most broken inside,” said another wise one. “But we can’t tell her. It’ll break her.”

And so they watched her sail through life with her mast held high. Until one day, when a storm raged and chipped her shoulder.

“I knew it!” they said. “See! She’s starting to erode. We need to help her. We need to help her see clearly.”

It started to rain, and her shoulder burned. Tears ran down her cheeks but she was still intact. And then they jogged toward her at the prescribed pace, and decided to tell her, once and for all:

“You’re not unbreakable, sweetie. You never were.”

The sky turned black and the rains, they were torrential. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. Rocks hit her head, doubling in number with every elongating minute. She was growing numb and slowly, her nerves turned to glass. It rained as it had a countless times before but this time, she could feel it break her. She could feel the delicate and misleadingly gentle clink of broken glass in her shoulder, her kneecaps and in her body.

Her mast was now misspelled and lopsided, her pace slackening as she buckled down at the weight of the voices around her that seemed to have greeted the voices inside. They were now engaged in a conversation, and no one was winning. The sun came up again but the clouds remained.

i’m a green butterfly sans wings

Writing heals. When you think everything is lost and don’t understand people thanks to your inadequacies. When you don’t know if you’re being played or not. When you want to go back in time. And get submerged in nothingness. Then you get back to Word where the words first started to flow. You let them take you to a place where you want to live forever. My stories, my characters, my words- they are my cocoon.


I spent today doing nothing. I lazed around, ate home-cooked pasta, texted my school friends and read a bit of The Bell Jar (the book I’m currently reading). When my mobile phone rang, and it was an automated call from my phone company, I’d actually feel relief. When I recieved a text, and it was something lame, like a Forward or if it was once again, from my Phone Company… I’d just smile, and feel even better.

Thursday was one of those perfect days when I found out I’d got decent MidSem scores, won two prizes in a paper presentation and a collage, met up with school friends, and actually had fun in college. Friday was a holiday, and it’s the weekend now. I feel content to sit by myself and read and read and read. I feel so stable, so pleasant and like I’m at Equilibrium.

I don’t particularly want to have a half hour phone conversation or text someone I haven’t texted in ages. I don’t need to go out somewhere and freak out. I do need to get started on the backlog of homework, but I’ll be immune to its aftereffects till Sunday…

Till then, I want to be undisturbed, in this weird, serene, calm, half-lazy yet half-awesome state. I do not want anything to disturb the balance.