Just Writing Stuff Down

Like I'd mentioned, just when you think life seems great back to normal something like this happens. Another tragedy. Another war striking simultaneously. Where are we headed? What are we headed for? cruelty? pain? grief? is that all 2025 is gonna bring us? is that all we deserve? I don't know. And I had decided I wasn't going to address this but... I don't know how to begin this. Words feel insufficient, even hollow. But silence feels worse. Ever since the news of the airplane crash on June 12th broke, I've been stuck somewhere between disbelief and devastation. My heart has been aching in ways I can’t explain — for the lives lost, for the families left behind, for the sheer horror of it all. There’s something so terrifyingly unnatural about a plane crash. It’s not just tragedy — it’s betrayal. A betrayal of safety, of expectations, of life itself. One moment, people are checking in, texting their loved ones “see you soon,” choosing window seats, arguing about legr...

I’m shifting schools in 11th grade. Not moving cities. Not changing countries. Just a different building. New uniforms, new teachers, unfamiliar corridors. On paper, it’s nothing. But in my heart? It feels like everything’s about to change. Because what do you do when the reason school feels like home… doesn’t come with you to that new building? I didn’t walk into 8th grade hunting for soul sisters. I wasn’t looking for forever people. But somewhere between those stupid inside jokes, crushing over boys, floor-laughing fits, fight-patchups, and panic-before-exam meltdowns, I found them. And without even realising it, they became home. So yeah, I’m shifting schools. But these girls? They’re not just in my memories of school. They are the memories. They are the magic. They are school. They are home. Sandhya was the first one who made Ahmedabad feel less like I'm being uprooted and more like a peaceful, long vacation that never ends. She’s not the hugs-and-heartfelt-talks ...