In an Alternate Universe

In an alternate universe, I am not hurting over you. You see that you were wrong and you apologise, you ask to have me back, you tell me that it was a mistake. In an alternate universe, I am aware of how wrong the way you treated me was and I don’t think about letting you come back into my life. I respect myself and walk with dignity. In an alternate universe, I am not shattered into a million pieces on the inside, with each shard piercing into me till I bleed, bleed, and bleed, until I can bleed no more. I am not a broken little thing that people look at with pity. Poor girl.

But all that is in an alternate universe. In this universe, I am hurting over you, I want you back in my life, and I cry myself to sleep wondering why it cannot happen.

In an alternate universe, you are in love with me. We are so in love and the world is perfect. In an alternate universe, you hold my hand in front of your friends and carelessly put your arm around my shoulders. Everybody knows that we were made for each other. In an alternate universe, we fit like pieces of a two-piece jigsaw puzzle. You hug me and I melt into your arms and feel like I am home.

But all that is in an alternate universe. In this universe, you are not in love with me, you hid me from all of your friends, and we fit as well as Cinderella’s glass slipper fit on her step-sisters’ feet.

In an alternate universe, I am at peace with myself. I don’t toss and turn at night, wondering what I could have done differently, wondering what I could do differently now. In an alternate universe, I don’t look at my phone a million times a day hoping you will send me one message to acknowledge my existence. I don’t care whether you care at all. In an alternate universe, I am okay. I am alright and I can handle whatever is thrown at me.

But all that is in an alternate universe. In this universe, I have made elaborate lists about every single thing that went wrong, I open your chat window over a hundred times a day, and I am struggling to get up because I don’t have the strength to get out there and walk, talk, and trust again.



My sister wrote a speech about me for a class in school and it moved me to tears. I had to share it.

Journey to the Centre of My Heart

We had to give a speech at school about something which inspired us and I was really blank till I remembered the person who played a huge role in my life and shaping it. When I started working on the speech the words flowed almost automatically because they were from the bottom of my heart. So I decided to share it 🙂

Since we are supposed to talk about something which inspires us, I would like to talk about someone who has played a major role in the sixteen years of life, my sister. My sister was my first friend, my first role model and my first hero. My sister was 3 and half years old when I was born to become a part of her world. She was assigned with responsibility of being the ‘older sibling’ at the tender age of 4 and she accepted this responsibility gracefully. When…

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he’ll make promises. you’re the one. your flaws are beautiful. your insecurities will be looked after. and so you let go. you let it all out, raw and pure, and the fire burns him and he can’t take it and he leaves. and you crawl back into the crevices of your own mind and stay there. today he leaves, tomorrow she leaves, they all leave. that’s why you hide. that’s why you you break before you can be broken. you take that head start but you lose the race anyway.

Confessions of a “No-More Teenager” (Guest Post: Deepika Katyal)

Tomorrow, I turn 20. I have survived all the middle school lows, prudes, the high school drama, teachers who tell you how NOT to be, insecure boys, bitching, backbiting, third wheeling, being broke, being too thin, being not too thin, acne, fake friends, real friends, heartbreak, depression, tears and the quest to remain grounded. But it wasn’t as bad as it sounds, in fact it was one hell of a ride. Only now when I look back, I see what I have grown above. Who says teen years are easy, but who says they aren’t the best?

The existential crisis is what makes these years so so special .You are still discovering who you are and what you want to be on so many levels that the struggle doesn’t seem like one. It is an internal evolution of sorts ,where you realise you need to let go of the unnecessary; break free !

I have finally come to reckon with the fact that I have wasted so much time. I have wasted so much time worrying about what other people think of me, of how much they don’t or may be do like me. I have wasted so much time dwelling over how differently people would perceive me if only they knew the entire story, if only I were more outgoing and thus be seen as a more fun and pleasant person to be with. I have often looked down upon myself: the way I look, the way I talk, the way I think, being completely certain that people are equally critical of the same things.I have wasted so much time, tossed my peace and wasted my tears. The teens have taught me that my existence on earth does not depend upon opinions or how desirable or pleasing I can be. It does not depend upon how well I can mould down to fit in. It depends rather, on how far I can maintain my individuality against all the moulds forced upon me.

I am not easily outgoing and often struggle to open up, but that is fine!
I am also not an introvert at times, that is fine too!
The next time I meet someone new, they will notice the nervousness and the awkwardness, but that is fine! They will also notice that I am human!

We all seek validation . Or rather most of us .I certainly did, without realising that everyone will always have something to say, something to presume, something to judge, everyone including my own self!

No one will ever know the other part of the story: the internal monologue and struggle that leads to the good, bad, and even worse decisions I made or will make .

The beautiful seven years have dawned upon me a lesson for a lifetime. Your weight, your dark circles, your hair, your looks, your diction, the number of friends you have ,your flaws and lows, relationships you were in or will be in, the guy/girl who dumped you, the guy/girl you dumped, that one person always scoring more marks than you, that one person you assume is always better than you, do not and will never take away from the person that you are or choose to be .

Nobody is 100% confident. Nobody is flawless. I happened to read somewhere that embracing life is not really about jumping from cliffs or getting drunk in nightclubs; it is probably the process of learning to love yourself.

Nobody, absolutely nobody knows what it takes to to be you every single day! And nobody will ever know. Turning twenty has at least initiated the process of me believing in the fact that despite all my flaws and insecurities, I am pretty damn awesome and so are you!

This post was written by Deepika Katyal.