Posted in Rant

i keep crying

The thing is: I really want to get into a good college. Like really, desperately, I-would-kill-for-it kind of want.

I want to go to the US of A. I want to have that College Experience they always talk about and I want to become a kick-ass editor. But I’m just an average Indian girl and the average Indian girl does not get into Yale or NYU or Emerson. The average Indian girl goes to Christ or FLAMES (not that they are bad colleges, they’re actually really good but). The topper who has never seen a paper marked below a 95 maybe gets to go abroad but never one of the big ones.

I get good grades, I’ve participated in extracurricular activities, I’m a stage manager in our school’s production (!!!)*, I’ll probably maybe hopefully get into college. But when I scroll through college websites and read their expectations of the students they want enrolled, it sucks. I don’t reach those expectations; I am not enough.

And it makes me cry because as a sort-of-international student, I have to put in double the effort anyway because things that high schoolers get in the US for granted are things we need to wait for. My school didn’t have a counselor until late last year and counselor recommendations are necessary for applications. I have to pay extra for writing the SAT. The combinations of subjects we can choose for eleventh and twelfth is limited and so I don’t have three to four years of math or science which is ‘recommended’. My English is good but who knows if it’s good enough to compete with native speakers or even be at par with them (and I want to take English so). I have these old family friends from the US and whenever I speak to them, I try to sound smart and “cool” because I don’t want them thinking that just because I live in India, I don’t know anything or can’t speak proper English.

A month ago, I was breaking down a couple times daily for at least a week. Today, in fact, I cried twice. One moment I was scrolling through Yale’s website and the next I was sobbing in my mom’s arms. I feel stressed. I want to get into a good college.

I have so much to do! It’s like all the free time I had last year is just laughing at my face like, haha this is what you get for wasting so much time, loser.

Are any of you guys going through the same thing? Let’s (not) cry together.

Update: I cried again the day after. Seriously it’s like I can’t stop.

*I’m one of four stage managers and I know the real practice hasn’t started yet but all the work is going to the head stage manager and I feel completely useless. I love her, I do but I really want to do something! I ask her if I can help but she never needs any! Life is so hard, she says sarcastically.

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Posted in Poetry

you deserve more than me

I listen to

Your voicemails

Three months after

You sent them.
My heart breaks

A little as your

Voice hardens and

Sounds like indifference.
I’m so sorry that

I ran away and

Broke your heart; ruined

the happy-ever-afters.
I run away,

I shut down,

I hurt people,

I don’t mean to.
You loving me

Was something

I didn’t understand

And still don’t.
You deserve better

Than a girl who

Can’t give you the

Future you deserve.
Someone will

Love you, but

That someone,

It isn’t me.
Your last

Voicemail

Ends and

I save it.
I deserve some

Heartbreak for

What I did to you,

I hope you can forgive me.

Posted in Poetry

father

My father stands

Tall at 5 feet 8,

An invisible cape

Flies behind him.

He pushes me and

Makes me do better

Even when I just

Want to cry and

Give up.

And sure, we argue

A decent amount

But I wouldn’t

Have it another way.

He’s stronger than

Anyone I know,

Both literally and

Figuratively; he

Lifts this family

On his shoulders.

He sings off-key and

Dances awfully but

It’s the smile on his

Face that makes it okay.

He’s a whiz at math,

He can control the crowd

And when I grow up,

I hope to be like him.

Thank you, papa

For everything

That you do, I wish

You the best of

Birthdays, I love you.

(Am I not going to acknowledge my two-months-long disappearance?)

(Why, yes, I am not.)

Posted in Fiction

key to their prison

After 1, 034 days in the same dingy room (he doesn’t know that she’s kept count) with new scars on their malnourished bodies every other day, hope is hard to come across but they make do with what they can.

They paint the dark room with iridescent recollections of their father’s smile and their mother’s hugs, their dog’s soft fur and their grandmother’s stories. She brightens the lovely nights (what they consider to be nights) with whispered recitations of the poems she learnt in school. They sing their songs under their breaths, dance the dances they hope to never forget. They pray to the gods they never prayed to at home, cross their fingers and knock on wood. The Man took them away from their home but he couldn’t take their home away from them.

One morning or afternoon or evening or night, The Man is in their room, his breath stinking, slurring curses at the both of them. Her brother looks at her from under the table and mutters a curse in their language. It sounds like school bells and jostling each other in the hallways. The Man looks straight at him, his face contorting into something ugly and spits, demanding to know what he said. Her brother looks him in the eye, not backing down and she watches him in dread, opening her mouth to tell him to leave it, they’d regret it. The Man lifts his hand and slaps him hard enough to knock out another tooth. She flinches, standing up, ready to protect him. She steps forward and The Man pushes her on the ground as if she’s weightless. He leers at her, his hand on her knee and her brother punches him. Again and again and again. But The Man is stronger. He kicks and punches and slaps and she tries to stop him, she does but The Man throws her against the wall and she sinks onto the floor, her head throbbing and her body aching.

Eventually The Man stops. He views the damage done: her bloody brother laying sprawled on the floor, she, huddled against the wall and she can see the satisfaction on his face. He’s vile. “I will kill you if you cross me, you hear me?”

They know his language, the language of invaders but their language is a warm hug, a flap of a bird’s wings, a balloon flying away, a key to their prison, a weapon in this war.

Her brother spits out the blood in his mouth, wincing while sitting up and smiles a gruesome smile, his eyes wild. She looks at him worriedly, concerned. He opens his mouth and softly sings the first few lines of their parents’s wedding song.

The Man stops in his tracks. He turns around. She can see the vein in his forehead bulging. He looks at her brother. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Posted in Rant

26 days, 6 hours, 18 minutes and 54 seconds

Hey, you guys!

I haven’t posted in ages, ha, my bad. And I wish I had a legitimate post for today to make up for my unplanned hiatus but I do not and instead, let’s sit and have a chat. What is up with you guys? What new things have you done in the past couple of weeks?

I haven’t been Productive with a capital P, but I like to think I got some stuff done. So here’s a sort of life update?

  • I’m trying to start writing longer pieces which has culminated in an effort to try writing a 10,000 word story which I’m only 2.9k words in. Disappointing but it’s the longest I’ve done! Improvement! What’s the longest piece y’all have written? Any tips? I would love some!
  • Downsides however are that I have not in the least been able to write anything other than this story. I am blanking, nil, zilch, zoop.
  • I started going jogging instead of to the gym. The thought of going to the gym alone unnerved me to a terrible extent and anyway, jogging takes less time and it’s more fun! I’m! Being! Fit! Look at me!
  • I started learning Spanish again! I’d dropped it in the middle, God knows why, but I’ve started again and I just love it so much. Yo gusto espagnol. Languages are my jam. Also I really want to start Italian? It’s such a pretty language.
  • Earlier my parents were scared to send me abroad for undergrad for I’d be too young and I wouldn’t be able to take care of myself, the normal parent things BUT now they’ve completely changed their minds because for the field I want to go into i.e., publishing, colleges outside India are much better in terms of quality and opportunities offered. So I’m writing the SATs! I dropped math after 10th so now I have to self-study portions from 11th grade which is hard, but I think I’m managing.
  • I think I found my dream college! Emerson College in Boston offers a BA in Writing, Literature and Publishing which is abso-freaking-lutely perfect! I am actually so excited (about my future?! What?!)! And when I lived in the US, I lived pretty close to Boston so my old friends will be around there! I’M JUST SO FLIPPING EXCITED, I WANT TO GET IN SO BADLY!
  • However, the thought of leaving sort of scares me? New place, new people, making new friends? I want to start over but it’s scary. The thought of not having pani puri and dosa at a walkable distance, my friends, my family. Not having Hindi radio stations, Bollywood films in theatres, my home.
  • Twelfth grade started on the 14th and I’m already stressed out but oh, well. I need to ace this year; it’s the only one that counts.
  • I did good in my finals! 93% in History, hell frikin YEAH!
  • I feel like I’m feeling a little overwhelmed? With college and last year of school and trying to make my life be A-okay, I just need holidays. Speaking of which, I’m going to my grandparents’! And then to camp! Which will be fun hopefully!
  • Guys, I am addicted to Dynasty. It’s the best show ever, I binged its 17 episodes in three days, I think it was. I absolutely love it, I recommend.

I love you guys and I can’t wait for my selective writer’s block to leave xx

Posted in Poetry

mother

There’s a big part

Of my heart that’s

Reserved for the

Woman who

Birthed me.

 

She’s the kindest

Person I know and

Sure, she’s always

On the phone but

I wouldn’t have it

Any other way.

 

She doesn’t think so

But she’s awfully

Smart, she doesn’t

Need to know the

Spelling of ‘mitochondria.’

 

And maybe I got

My tears from her

But I also got my

Smile.

 

My mother’s the kind

Of woman who works

So hard, she doesn’t

Leave anything

Incomplete.

 

She’s my

Motivator,

Pushing me to

Do more with

Myself; I’m

Capable of so

Much more,

She knows.

 

My mom dreams

Big dreams for me,

Of Harvard and a PhD;

She wants me to do

Better than she did.

 

She downplays

Everything she’s

Done and puts

Herself down and

I just want to say,

Ma, I’m proud to be

Your daughter, thank

You for everything,

I love you.

Posted in Poetry

greedy for love

i want the kind of love that inspires; that leaves me with an ink stain on my heart and hundred pages of phrases describing our first kiss and our second and third

i want the kind of love that is quiet: a squeeze of hands and a private smile or two

i want the kind of love that makes me feel safe

i want the kind of love that makes my stomach hurt with laughter

i want the kind of love that makes me happier than i’ve never been before

i want the kind of love that is soft; cuddles at night and forehead kisses

i want the kind of love that holds me up when i need help and offers me their back to climb up on when my feet hurt

i want the kind of love that makes someone believe

i want the kind of love that makes me notice the tiny things, making them all the more meaningful

i want the kind of love that fills me up with so many words that when i’m penning them down, my handwriting looks like abstract art because i can’t keep up

i want the kind of love that surprises me at every turn in the best way

i want the kind of love that’s new

i want the kind of love that i know i’m not worthy of but makes me want to fight to earn it

i want the kind of love that makes everything more 

i want the kind of love

i want the kind

i want

Posted in Open When...

…it feels like your body doesn’t fit

You are beautiful.

You. Are. Beautiful.

And I need you to understand this and know this.

Every single cell in your body is a gift to the universe, you are a gift to the universe.

You’re stuck with your thighs, your hands, your eyes, your cheeks for the rest of your life. And hey, I get it, your feet are too small, your stomach is far too out, your skin is too oily, trust me, I’ve been there. Screw that though.

Your eyes are beautiful, your smile lights up the room, your hands make magic on the piano keys, your feet dance up a storm on stage.

For every flaw you find, I can find ten perfections and if I can do it, so can you.

Your body is sticking with you your whole life, whether you like it or not. Might as well figure out a way to actually be proud of the body you’re in.

Say it with me: I love how I look.

Love,

Ebe

Posted in Rant

40 days of 2018

Hey guys! I feel like I just want to sit and talk to you guys today. How y’all doing? How’s your year been so far? I think mine’s been pretty good. I feel like 2018 might turn out to be an amazing year, touch wood.

In the past forty days (forty days seems like so less), quite a bit has happened.

  • I tried my hand at book reviewing with John Green’s recent release, Turtles All The Way Down! I read book bloggers all the time and book reviewing’s always seemed so interesting and on top of that, N had said book reviewing is a good practice for aspiring editors. Check it out and please tell me what you guys thought of it! Have you guys read the book? How’d you like it?
  • I volunteered at the Times Litfest here in Bangalore! IT WAS SO MUCH FUN, I WISH I COULD GO BACK. I ran around so much escorting speakers from here to there and GUESS WHAT GUYS.
  • I MET RUPI KAUR!! WHOOOP! Okay, wait I’ll admit I didn’t buy her books earlier ’cause of all the hype but when I met her and she shook my hand and said my name and said it was nice to meet me, I made up my mind to go buy it. Also, gUYS, she PUT ME ON HER INSTAGRAM STORY! I was freaking out so hard with Mk, oml. SHE SIGNED MY BOOK AND SAID GIRLS LIKE ME ARE THE REASON SHE WRITES AND I HAVE A PICTURE WITH HER and can I just say her session was beautiful. I think I’m in love with her as is apparent.
  • We’re supposed to put up the graduation for the twelfth graders and while I know that no matter what we do they’ll hate it, I just feel so bad because we’ve barely done shit and it’s going to suck so bad? I’m sorry guys. (I’m just having fun dancing.)
  • I’m trying to get more organised which is a work in progress. I made a bullet journal! It’s not Tumblresque but oh well, I like it. I’ve started using goodreads to keep track of what I’m reading and what I want to. Add me, guys! (I really thought I was above shameless self-promo, tsk.)(But add me!)
  • I’m ten percent into my yearly reading goal! I feel like that’s sort of disappointing but oh well.
  • Troye Sivan released AMAZING songs and I can’t wait for his album oml
  • SIMON VS THE HOMO SAPIENS AGENDA IS BEING ADAPTED AS A MOVIE AND I AM GOING TO SCREAM, I’M SO FREAKING PREPARED!!
  • I didn’t do the best in my UTs which was disappointing and my finals are coming up and I! Hope! To! Do! Well!
  • I haven’t been writing everyday which isn’t good but that’s not been the case in February so far so fingers crossed!
  • I’ve been watching a lot more cricket nowadays, I don’t exactly know why but it’s hella interesting. Virat Kohli, guys.
  • I went to the GYM! And yes, I know I scoff whenever my friend tells me he’s going to the gym but I am trying to be fit, look at me, character DEVELOPMENT. I’m proud of me (though I haven’t gone running or gymming these past few days.)
  • I kind of want to tell my crush I like him but I’m not even sure I like him and I feel like me telling him will be lying. Hence, NOW I have to figure out my feelings which is a whole other mess and so much work.
  • I think I’ve been talking to more people which I really like, I’ve gotten closer to the New Kids (who joined this year) and it turns out, they’re pretty frikin’ amazing to be around.
  • #CutToxicPeople2k18 (Though it happened in December, I’ve started to see just how good of a decision it was, however hard and complicated it might’ve been.)
  • I’m going for camp in May! It’s ten days without phones and WiFi in a different state and I’m really excited! It’s going to be so mucH FUN!
  • Today one of my friends told me that I’ve become a really nice and better person this year and that I used to be a bitch till tenth which I wholeheartedly agree with. I was not a good person in 2016. I’m glad that’s changed and that the character development (I’m sorry, I just really like saying that.) is apparent.
  • Dare I say it guys, I’m proud of me.

Ah, I love 2018. What about you? Have you developed as a character? Tell me all about it!

Posted in Poetry

and then there was one, one, one

Sometimes you scream

and cry and wail

into the abyss;

All you want is

An acknowledgement,

An echo, I know

Someone’s there

For me, you’re

Met with deafening

Silence.

Helplessness drips

From your lips,

Loneliness rolls

Down your cheek,

But somehow

From somewhere

Something ebullient

Makes its way

Up your throat. It

Forces your mouth open,

Wipes away all traces

Of anything that isn’t

effusive, hopeful, loving

Or rhapsodic.

(They call it hope.)

An echo of the smile

From five nights ago

Makes its way

Onto your face, your eyes

They twinkle and

Sirius holds nothing

Against you. You retrace

Your steps, repeat

Your idiomatic words,

Sway to the music

You were listening to

Last night, maybe

No one will be there

But you can be your

Own echo.

Own echo.