Prose before hos

Don't think about him. Repeat to yourself. 

At 5:22 am, find yourself telling an acquaintance from Tinder you'd never meet how he's wronged you. Hear the acquaintance give you rock solid advice, 

"Block him."

Repeat to yourself, you'll block him. 

Repeat to the acquaintance, you'll block him. 

Do no such thing. Just say it in your head. 

The thought is so daunting you'd prefer going to sleep than pandering to those ideas any further. 

Ignore him for two days. Every time the notification tab lights up, hope it's him and when it's not, take your aggression out on three other guys who are vying for your attention. 

What is the point? No wait, you don't care about him. This is your narrative. 

Find yourself flirting back at the stranger after his sixth attempt. Tell yourself he's not that bad. You can totally be kind and allow him a shot. 

Wake up next morning, assuming you're not on my sleep cycle of sleeping for 3 hours in the day out of 21, and feel horrible for flirting back with the guy you don't give a flying fuck about. 

Notification tab lights up. Eyes widen. 

"Why don't you apply for this job?"

Fuck no, never. I don't want to do this crap for pittance. Don't bother replying cause it's not helpful job opening and it's not him who texted. 

Open his Instagram. See the last remains of your happiness in binaries on his profile. Wonder if you're beyond help and that there's no hope for you. 

No wait, you need to workout. 

Drink water. You haven't had water since 2 am last night and it's 7:22 pm. 

Go back to your profile. See how he will potentially see your profile again, if he does.

"Block him."

Yeah, okay, I'll block him. It's not like he's doing anything that needs blocking. 

Talk to 6 other people in the span of two hours to feel something. Anything. 

Make small talk. Make a few jokes. You've got it, people are laughing. 

Flirt with the guy from the last night? No. You don't want to give him ideas, especially when you don't have any. 

Drink water, that felt good. 

Stare at yourself in the mirror. 

Wonder what he'll think of the body the way it looks now as opposed to what he's seen. 

Forget him. He doesn't matter. 

Watch a film with 5 other friends. 

Laugh after days and feel something in your bones. Should drink some more water. 

Sneak a few texts to one of the many friends on the side. Bitch about one of the many passing dumb comments.

For fifteen odd minutes, actually forget him. 

Bid your goodnights and goodbyes and pick up your phone.

Three notifications. 

Ugh, stop talking to me about dumb things. 

One unread message. From him.

"hey"

Much like any teenager, Snobster is a peculiar prick. She hates the exclamation in titles and yet goes ahead and does that to herself. She also hates talking/writing in the third person but here we are.

13 long years of somewhat journalling life and letting everyone around me jump at it.


22 May 2007, a day I celebrate annually, doing the things I love. I write, I get some cake and then maybe have a good dinner.

I don't think I'm going to follow the entire ritual, largely cause the circumstances around me won't allow the fanfare, but also the Delhi Police isn't exactly rushing to supply a whole cream cheese frosted cake, complete with "Welcome to the teens!" as icing on the top. I may have clocked in thirteen years of writing and apparently being dramatic and outlandish, but hey, I have to be authentic to my preferences. Even if it means I'm annoying people and waking them up from their slumber to engage with me.

The merriment is a bit on the down-low also cause I may have taken the vows I made to myself a tad bit seriously. When I said,

Here's to the last year of us being a baby. And to the last of me being cushy.
I can't wait to fuck things up, royally. 

I didn't quite realize what I was signing up for. Sure, it was dramatic and yes, I have been truly out there with my promise but it's been a hard year. I lost a publication deal, a chance to be in a book with whole author credit. I lost a job. I found myself grieving for people who hurt me and continued doing that, I found myself exposed to everything I held true to my self falling apart. If I think about this time last year, I had an average job and was living a seemingly average life. Today, I have less than half of that, after a rollercoaster ride year with highs being higher than I'd ever been and lows showing me the cracks within me. I had a nervous breakdown a week after my last blog anniversary, I've been through a course of anti-depressants. I have cried more than I ever did in my life and then found solace in people who I never thought would make it. 

"Can you please pick some candles? The ones that light like anaar. You know, sparklers."

"We don't get those candles here."

"You can just say you can't get it."

"Yahan cake nahi katteh, yahan Bihari katteh hai. It'd be a miracle if I get candles."

Uphill climbs bring out the worst in me, whether on feet or in the car. The market where I work is located on a relatively uphill slope. Naturally, I'm at my worst every single time I'm asked to lug my ass anywhere around the area.

On one of my last ATM hangs with Mia K, I was ranting to her about a friend. I believed the said friend had fewer fucks to give about me than in comparison to her SO's friends. That should irk anyone.

Mia K being Mia K (ahem) looked at me calmly with an expression that read, "This child." and continued to hear until I shut up with all my ranting and replaced it with panting.

Speaking of panting, Mia K has a great joke on how dogs wear coats and they pant in the Summer due to the same coat (haha fuck me, hilarious). It's something that's a part of her overcompensational behaviour since she put in her papers.

I digress, but coming back to the uphill climb and Mia K, she responded with a counter example on how my friend was giving me all the fucks and how I have been forgetting about the same (citing two academic papers and four parties from the last one financial year).

"You know what's your problem? (mental note, not verbal.) You keep a list of grudges only. Instead, why don't you focus on a list of gratitudes?"

"You know what, I hate you (mental note, not verbal.) You are right. I have never done that. Maybe, it's time for me to make that."

What better than the last post during my birthday month, to recall the kindness and the large heartedness of the people I've encountered.

To the girl who didn't show up to take admission at my second college - You helped me secure a seat. Without your input (of staying out of admissions) help, I wouldn't have managed to meet the people I call family today, the degree that taught me everything about images, still and moving. That made me realize that there's a life outside academia and that it's worth pursuing. You also ensured I didn't go to the UK since I got admitted in Delhi and that was the only one condition upon which I skipped all the colleges I got through there god I hate you so much (how does one not add grudges to the same list man?).

Mum - For being oh so nonchalant about dating, bringing men home and for being all round resourceful by ensuring me the tastiest present from my birthday wishlist this year.

The Japanese passerby who told me to pick the John Coltrane Tshirt - He was my Yoda and I had a full padawan moment with him. He appeared out of nowhere when the Thai woman was charming her way in and ensuring she sells me three t-shirts including Chili Peppers ("We don't stock Chili Peppers, but we do keep Red Hot Chili Peppers hahaha.") and Oasis. He came in nonchalantly, not looking to buy anything and when I was hyperventilating over the Coltrane t-shirt he asked me to pick that over the Chili Peppers. "Classy, definitely. RHCP is more rocker like. Which one are you?"
All of a sudden, I no longer needed Sinner to help me with my purchase. The Thai woman looked a bit disappointed.

Speaking of which, Sinner - For being the most compassionate travel partner despite travelling with me since 2010 and knowing I throw up at the drop of the hat. For fussing over me when I didn't sleep enough and for calming me down when she lost her wallet full of monies and cards. For baking that cake on my blog anniversary party (it wasn't this month but still) and being one eye roll away from knowing what's up with me. Recently, she pronounced I liked a guy before I knew I liked him. I don't know about you, but I need more of her in my life. "He's crazy, just like her.", she told her Catfish friend, and he nodded in agreement. This, when I knew nothing about the person. All that we (Sinner and I) are missing is an umblical cord. Really. She wouldn't agree though.

My University - For making sure I exited academia with an A, and nothing less. It was an absolute pleasure and my gratitude to the people who feigned well at tolerating my work and vice verse. Quite a ride.

My workplace - For trusting in me and giving me a chance of a lifetime on projects that people usually take a long time to reach to in their career. 

Thai Airways Ground Staff in Delhi - For blocking the middle seat and thus ensuring I slept through the flight with my feet curled up on the next seat. I make a silent wish for everytime a ground staff personnel does that for me.

The lady at Platinum Mall who exchanged our pants two days later - She's my hero, for not only did she recognize me and gave me stuff my size in a plethora of colours, she also agreed to exchange sizes and allowed us to try outfits (despite so, we came to exchange). She was more than happy helping Sinner and I pick pants and skirts. In a country where you're asked to not enter a nightclub cause you're not a guy and not allowed to touch clothes which don't fit your size, she was quite something. I hope she makes a fortune selling those soft as hell, skinny pants.




Circuit - For fighting through the time I was traveling. After I came back, there were days I wondered how he survived. I am so fucking glad he did, I would be devasted otherwise...

The lady who gave me change for 1000 baht in exchange for buying two rubber bands worth ten baht each - You make me want to move to Bangkok and embarrass myself asking people to help me get a job there. Recently, I was out trying to buy a bottled water in exchange with a 100 rupee note. I was shown the door by FOUR fucking shopkeepers because they did not deem a 20 rupee purchase worth giving 80 rupees worth of change.


Fuck you guys, learn a thing or two on how to treat people.


His Holiness The Dalai Lama - For making that miraculous entrance during my vacation and ensuring I didn't come back to a situation where my ass was on fire trying to hunt rare images from the cesspool of shit that the internet is. Youdaman.

The men who played Charlie "Putz" at the drinks trucks - You gave me a reason to laugh at myself, besides stiff drinks.

Man Friday- Very few people can drill facts in your head without an ulterior motive. While I'm ducking my head in the sand and not coming out to the reality, he's pushing me to face the facts and pick my life and look at what I intend on doing for the next couple of years. In his words, "fun and games are over."

Mia Khalifa - There's no easy way of doing this. I'm high out of my mind and to write this after giving her a farewell isn't exactly simple. While I'm at being sentimental, let me count the times Mia K was the bomb.

For rolling me a doob in the conference room. For the reverse psychology that made me stick around the job. For drilling in me that clean eating is completely possible regardless of being fussy and picky. For proving to me that incest is real by playing both, the role of my elder sister and potential lover. For always being a phone call away (yet never answering). For single handedly standing against everything that went wrong in the last one year and making sure I remember none of that. For making me into a better person. For telling it to my face that my IRL game sucks and for planning my mayyat. It's been a real pleasure, Mia.

I travel unprepared.

Amongst some of the notably stupid things I indulge in, booking tickets a few hour before the flight is one. I've almost, always done that. It's not that Adani adopted me or Kumar Mangalam Birla is funding my travels, but I truly cannot commit to anything- even vacation- for anything over 24 hours in advance and taking forward this stress a month in advance, is not my idea of "having fun".

Yet, here I am. Somewhere high up, in sky or in my head. Or probably both if I'm lucky and alive.



You see, *this* trip was planned about a month ago and the amount of stress it caused me, it could kill an already dead patient due to heart blockage. Let me explain how-

For an ordinary person, a vacation is a way to de-stress, involving being uncomfortable, being adventurous and even for that matter being out of the known and into the wilderness. My idea of vacation is having done triple the amount of research I do, for anything, going over Tumblr, blogs, internet content, magazines like an obsessive maniac just so I could know and potentially have control over any problem I may encounter during my stay. I want to know what colour of the bedsheets I can potentially have when I land in a hotel, and what condiment will the shack serve with the Fried Rice I plan to order for my lunch on the second day. I should see a therapist, but let me complete.

More often than not, these trips are fucking hard on me. I break down in rash, I throw up, I'm sick. All this happens because I'm stressed and more so, because my head is convinced that I need to have it all under control. The potential for stress stems from the shit brewing in my head. The nagging feeling that surrounds me goes like this, "You can't all this fun, something must go wrong" and so I wait. I wait for something to change, a plan to modify, a meal unavailable, a piece of garment I imagined I would buy sold out-all this and more in the span of 5 minutes. I take my research to places unimaginable, including booking hotel to much in advance that I regret for the remaining evening and the time leading to the trip, why did I create that urgency.

Naturally, vacations are stressful because I've been taking them with my friends or myself. I feel the ones where I take myself, I'm far more lackadaisical and composed than the ones which I undertake with my friends. I feel being responsible for myself is okay, not that my friends or partners ever expect me to take care of them while traveling. Because I'm a Type A asshole, and because I'd like to believe I have taken precautions and I'll most likely be having fun, I'm responsible for anything that may go wrong, whether it's controllable by me or been going wrong due to me. Add to this, splitting headache, anxiety, and this sense of doom.

When I was in Eight Grade, my school took us for an ambitious trip to Jodhpur and Jaisalmer. I don't remember much except for dying in the fucking cold in January at night. Those guys had provided us only Jaipuri Razai and let me tell you, it can freeze your balls out. There was camel poop and aloo poori in the five days that we travelled in all permutations and combinations. Despite being all of 13, I vowed to never visit Rajasthan again. I think I broke that twice since, but goddamn not Rajasthan. I don't remember what exactly was so wrong but I do remember taking this idea of no trip to this state whatsoever. A blanket ban.

I remember the dates very well. Before leaving, my grandmother had assisted in packing clothes, in fawning over me. In doing all possibly grandmotherly things one can indulge in. I also remember on two occasions speaking to her on the phone. The second time, she was talking as though she's half asleep. It didn't occur to me, things had gone awry.

When I returned in the end of January, my grandmother was in semi-coma. Delirious, not making sense and definitely not waking up. Now, as an adult I know that the doctors had given up and she wanted to pass away peacefully at home. The adults in the family knew about this some months ago that it was time for her to go.

Back in the day, it didn't occur what went wrong. I'd left her, sick but in her senses and I came back to a corpse on a bed, in that state for three weeks where people would visit us and look grave.

I think about being 13 a lot. About how naive I was and how it helped me to get past that time. I don't think I'd be able to do it today, with the same innocence that I moved past. That's the beauty of being young and stupid. You bypass so many things easily.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, each time I travel, I feel I won't come back to things just as how they are. It makes me crave for banal and stay in banal. It makes me dig routine more than Canadians love Poutine. I actively look forward to days when the five members of my house are doing nothing more inspiring than eating dinner at home and watching TV. You have no idea how fucking nice it is to have "normal" things, as opposed to thousands of people flocking your place in a month to see a dying exhibit. You wouldn't imagine what it's like to be on a vacation and come back to see the entire life change before your eyes.

Which is why, I control situations. If not for others, for myself. I like to take charge and do only those things which I have done and they have paid back in making me least bit happy. Often, the research I do helps me make a better decision when I'm in control, and the vacations that I don't take, help me retain my sanity.

Here I am, floating between land and ether, writing all this and promising how I'll try to be better.

I've no idea how things will be when I return home. If people will continue being okay, if I'll be the same. I can just hope that I don't beat myself too hard for the rest of my life if something goes wrong.

But you know what they say, don't you? If something has to go wrong, it will go wrong. Maybe they'll stop my luggage for bringing 20 pairs of socks, maybe we'll miss our flight, maybe I'll die 30,000 feet in the air. I won't know, and I certainly don't know.

You miss all the shots you don't take and so here am I, a week into being 26. Taking all my shots just as how life presented it to me, with a slice of lemon.

Cheers. 

Hi Kiddo,

Frowning at being called 'kiddo', aren't you? Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but be prepared for that to be your nickname for the next five years. You're probably wondering how do I know this, who on Earth am I, and why should someone like you listen to a stray voice like mine? Give yourself a little time, you'll know the origin of this nickname soon. As for introductions...

I'm Snobster. 25 years old. I run www.snobster.in (a domain name you should have bought years ago). Nice to not meet you, because if I'd actually seen you, I'd probably be planting a slap across your face.

I've been on this page for 10 years. Sit down, buckle up, and listen to me. I'm going to attempt to change your life.



Let's start with the things that need your attention.


Your spellings and punctuation are not cool. In two years you'd be wondering why (and be almost convinced that you never did) use "Lol" or any version of that. Honey, it wasn't cool in 2007 and neither is it now. You don't need to conserve space, so hit the spacebar after you finish typing a sentence. Spare the "lol" and the "Hinglish" on this page. Stop trying to make it happen. Stop trying to make yourself happen. I guess you won't listen to me since you were at it for very many years.

Often, the best games are the ones where you have no game at all. The less you fuss about yourself, the better you'll be. You'll only believe it when it hits you a couple of mornings after a rendezvous with someone who you believed would change your life.

Speaking of which, men who you think are worth the world are as useless as the paper bag in which you buy vegetables from Safal. You'll need them for a purpose and that's that. For a short ride to carry vegetables from the outlet to your car. The metaphorical equivalent of that. Also, be more passionate about driving cars. You'll need it. Autos will get expensive and frustrating with time.

What? Why are you hiding your face? Do you not eat vegetables? You take the auto to go from point A to point B, don't you? It's absolutely normal to accept normal things such as buying grocery, pooping the said groceries out...yadda yadda. You get the drift.

You may think you're a mermaid or some ethereal creature (two shades too ugly) who doesn't get bothered by this shit or doesn't need a reality check but trust me, you do. You need that more than you need that tight slap.

Where were we? Ah yes, men. The delightful topic you're not willing to embrace.

Look, in no time, you'll have the attention from people you thought wouldn't know about your existence. A word of advice, spare the world the details about the many loves of your lives as you've prepared the speech and media to accompany that. No, that guy in long, shaggy hair isn't cool. Will never be cool. He's an arsehole. You'll learn soon.

However, about those pictures. A minute if I may.
That's the only thing you've done right. Be on your toes, snap as many people as possible. Snap at many people as possible. The pictures you take on your digicam with your newly straightened teeth? Those are called selfies and they will be a huge commodity in time to come. And you, my darling, would ace taking those. There'll also be jarring music written about it but please ignore. You'll outgrow that camera, then another and probably all those. But don't outgrow that habit of taking photographs, storing media and saving digital memories where ever you go- be it your school that you hate with the fervour or the numerous (!) institutions you'll be attending in time to come.

I'm sure you're waiting to hear all about school. As things come to an end, your school too shall pass. Those back counting days that you've got going for yourself? That's going to be very helpful in getting over the trauma that wreck of a place caused.

In the last 8 odd years since I graduated school, I have never looked back and said, "I miss it". Don't worry. It's entirely okay to hate the place, the people and even the body odour that place elicits. I'm sorry to break it to you, but you'll continue having nightmares of writing exams and not knowing anything (thanks to your maths teacher from grade VIII) and being stuck in a school washroom with no way of getting out. Would you believe if I did tell you that it was this morning at 5 am I woke up to that nightmare where I was locked in the primary school building and the toilets were full of turds with no water? I make sure I wake up every once in a fortnight to that dream. You'll have the fear of bad toilets and no toilets all your life, I feel now.

What's a school without the people? Better. But not in our case.

You, stay the fuck away from everyone. Look, in the library, there's this brand new copy of Age of Reason by this fella called Jean-Paul Sartre. I suggest you get your hands on it as fast as you can. You're going to not understand a lot of it, but the parts that you do, you'll love it. Fight the urge to steal the copy because you really need to get the fuck out of this school, as you will learn in time to come.

Has that wretched trip happened so far? I am not sure. If it hasn't then please, please, please don't go for it. You'll hate the mountains for the rest of your life. You'll hate everyone associated with that trip, including the women dancing in the moving bus who will throw up three hours later.

It has? Oh shit. You'll hate the mountains for the rest of your life. You'll miss out on ALL the fucking opportunities to take a bus and escape because you've seen hell, and courtesy school you'll forever hate the beauty that the hills are (or not).

Bad decisions also include skipping that camp/trip to Sri Lanka (because you ho, you'll love the beach so DON'T not cancel on that), colouring your hair (yes smarty pants, I know you're going for blue or shocking pink but you'll be in a different kind of shock at the end), Tinder (please don't listen to Mayflower when she tells you to download it- wait, you don't know who Mayflower is or what Tinder is but don't listen to her about an app which lets you meet people when you're bored out of...never mind). About that tattoo during the Commonwealth Games...don't roll your eyes at me. You'll hate it with a fervour in years to come. Besides, the artist isn't even that great. Wait and research. What? Research is fun.

Will you be bored out of your mind? Hells yeah. For the right measure. It'll make you want to write and write all banal details of your life for all these years. You'll date men (much to the disbelief of everyone around you, especially your mother, and you will sly write about them all- at all possible places). Spare your family the details.

Now the other pressing concern about your life- friends.

It's okay to wonder if you'll ever have friends who will, you know, like you and you will like them back. Or, for that matter, have non-toxic friendships where you'll not feel like murdering the other person. You're in for a ride.

The first person you'll meet and share your slice of cake with at college will be your person. However, a surprise would come in from the person who will smile at you during planting the sapling thingamajig. You'll be virtual twins. Yes, her. You think she's a privileged brat, don't you? A snob after you? Don't believe me? Wait and watch.

That girl in the ManU t-shirt in college? Her, she'll be your friend for life. She will fuss over you, mother you just as how your mother does. She will also be one of the few reading your blog and laughing over it. Remember to thank her for being herself. There are too few of them in the world and she is with you. Remember to be thankful for that.

That man you hate with fervour in college. He'll be easy to spot. Flexing his arms, carrying an umbrella and appearing for all entrances (a seat before you if you may). He goes by the name of Man Friday. You'll want to lodge bullets in his head, but you'll also have his back. He's everything you're not, so trust him when he tells you to. The world's not all that bad. I don't know why do you keep losing focus. This isn't economics class and you're not learning about missionary goods.

Beware of amphibians and other sea creatures who your friends don't approve of. They don't belong in your life, contrary to the popular belief.

But for that, you need to get out of school. A word of advice, stick to your school friends who hang with you online. They're not bad people. The rest are like furniture. Continue ignoring them and do your business on the side. No need to trust anyone outside of what your instincts say.

If your instincts say listen to jazz, study four hours a day and continue to crush on that man who's shorter than you (the same one who only wears pink), you do that.

If you want to quit chewing nails and stop smoking (yeah that will happen as well), you'll be able to do that. But you've to get after it.

What? I'm from the future. Of course, I know about him. And the other one who looks like a jackass (quite literally).

But who knows, in time to come, you'll fall back to your habits again.

I would tell you to think otherwise, not jump at every opportunity you get to prove yourself. You do not have to prove anything to anyone. You do not have to get every degree in the world and neither do you have to get a high grade everywhere. God knows where that person came from and what happened.

I remember you, creating this page, just as a device. A tool to distract yourself from not taking your board examination result too seriously. Oh, that's expected, yes?

You'll do exceedingly well. Only for yourself. The world will tell you otherwise. You'll pretend to not hear them but it'll leave a dent. It'll leave a caustic effect on your self-growth.

A dent so proper that for years together you'll continue to hammer one achievement after another, academic ofcourse, to prove how you've changed 360 degrees. How you've made yourself a smarter person.

Stop. For your sake.

I know you won't. Till you'll break down so many times that you won't have anything to offer. You'll be on the lowest low with nothing left to lose.

You'll have to stop. This isn't healthy.

52 in Mathematics is decent. As is 70 something in Science.


You'll continue to try to clean your slate into becoming a geek so big that you will flip at the sound of failure. Something, that I need to remind you, is okay.

It's okay to fail, fall down, tumble over. It's fine to lose everything you think you own and not know anything at all. Success isn't everything. Learning is. When you've stopped learning, it's time to go back and practice. You won't learn it anytime soon. I know it took me ten years to get used to that. I'm still struggling.

Here I am, you- I mean, this is confusing. Let me try again.

Here I am, at 25, still flipping over a result. My MPhil viva is due and god alone knows my mental health can't take the stress. I'm breaking out every hour. I'm snapping at everyone who's concerned. I've fought with people who care about me (to nudge me), I'm a wreck. I know you were when you started this page. Questioning, whether you'll have to return the iPod out of the goodwill if you fail mathematics board exam. Spoiler alert- I played that iPod today and it works just as good as it did in 2007.

And, it's because of you. And your unrealistic pressures to perform and demonstrate how fucking amazing you are.

I wish for once you could just give up, this whole thing of putting your act together. I wish you could disrupt things. Do stuff people your age do.

Instead of questioning, or writing or brooding, I wish you could just run away from your house or you know, fail a grade, or get a job on a farm or even go out clubbing and take selfies while you're wearing liquid gloss lipstick. Okay, strike that last one. Don't ever wear gloss lipstick. That's just tacky and you'll never be forgiven.

Just get off your high horse for once and see life from someone else's point of view. I know I want to do it today. It's hard being this anal about things, wanting things perfect to the last detail. It's hard being curt. It's not easy to want and demand things that people have no time to think about.

You know something? It's you and your choices who's made me this way. I wish you could take a break from whining, sulking and being sad. You're not sad. Life's not sad. You're surrounded by people who love you. By those who would go an extra mile for you, bake for you.

Measure your successes in life by how many people cook/bake for you. That's the only yardstick you need. No grade or division can determine what you are.

If you have people who have your back, despite your shortcomings, your stupidities and your whining, you are a rich, rich girl.

Yeah, what do I know? I'm no longer on pocket money or a strict regime of having a glass of milk every morning. How would I know what's it like to go to the school where everyone who looks at you, does so with some much contempt that you want to prove a point to everyone? How would I ever know of all the things you've bottled so tightly in your heart that you'd never allow anyone to see you for who you are.

Take time and let go.

That's the best I can tell you. Nothing remains as is and nothing matters for more than 48 hours. You either have a solution or the resilience to pick yourself back and give your best shot. Nobody knows it better than you- for you will prove every single time, how unkindly you take to failure.

There's nothing stopping you, babe. I wish I could be more like you today. Unabashed, full of yourself and so proper, If I were as cocky at 25, as I was at 15, I'd be giving KarJenners a run for their money.

Oh, wait. You don't know who they are. Well, they'll be relevant. Much more than Paris was anyway.

I wish I could tell you, no matter how hard life gets never feel sorry for yourself. But then you already know, only assholes feel sorry for themselves.

You're good to go now. Naini Kakkar will lynch if you if you show up without doing homework today. Or for the next two years.

Be good, be kind. Those will come handy.

See you in ten years!

(I'd have love to show you a glimpse of what you were at 15 but I know how mortified you will be, instead, take a picture from a moment when you're the happiest in the last few years.)