Life in a note book

I am leading a hostel life from my 11th std; it’s my 7th year in a hostel. I met very few good souls and lots and many and many people who have a human shape but blood and brain like a snake 🐍. Here, I am sharing one of my experiences of living with weird people, from my multiple experiences. One thing I hate in hostel living is someone pushing my clothes like trash, making wrinkles, and making space for their clothes to dry. Because of this, once I had issues with my roommate. I don’t want to reveal her real name; let me name her “Triggera.” It’s because she trashed my washed clothes like waste clothes even though there was a lot of other space to put her clothes, and she didn’t even inform me. Months went by, and it was a 3-sharing room. Both of my roommates used my plate, cooking vessels, and tiffin box and left them without washing for weeks. The plate and vessels that I use for my daily food started stinking badly and were affected by fungus, bacteria, virus, and all. It irritate...

When Did This Place Stop Feeling Like Home? A year ago East Tambaram felt like home. A year ago it was a worryless and peaceful days. I just lived in the present, no past and future thinking. This is the only girl who made me live in the present happily, didn’t give me space to worry about my past and future. The only worry about the future she gave is her final exams are nearing day by day, and she’s gonna leave this place, leaving me alone one day. She is the example of the saying: home is not always about the place we live, but sometimes it’s about the person who we live with. In my 7 years of my hostel life, the one year with her felt like home, and now my home went away, leaving me alone in this place.

One day my father said my brain had not grown properly. My mom said I didn’t have enough IQ to study what I asked for. My sister teased me as if my ideas and my interests were not my own. At that time, I had self-confidence in myself. I believed I could do it. But later, it faded away; I got to know that it was true. My prefrontal cortex is small; it has not grown properly. And it is known as ADHD.

I have a disorder—I couldn’t put what I feel into words. Others can’t understand what I feel. I can’t make them understand, even if I wish to. After realizing this, I understood why Bargavi and I are still best friends, and why she always holds a special place—because our feelings and emotions have the same mechanism

I am wondering how the Bible gives me solutions so often—not only for taking decisions, not only comforting me when I am sad, not only giving me strength and confidence when I feel low—but even giving me money when I am broke. I am staying in a hostel, and nowadays my expenses are more than the pocket money that my parents send every month. Usually, I am able to save at least ₹600 from my pocket money every month, but for the past two months, my expenses have been more than what I receive. This month, I actually thought I was going to save ₹1000 from my pocket money, but unfortunately, I lost my spectacles again, and now I am broke with a bank balance of ₹43, and I have to run a whole week with this. I always feel very hesitant to ask my parents for extra money beyond my monthly pocket money. I already bought new spectacles for ₹1500. I had a balance of around ₹300, and I kept that for my weekend dance class travel because the class ends late at night, and I have to go to Ashok Nagar. ...

I loved dressing beautifully once. I had beautiful, unique dress collections and matching accessories, different colors of nail polish, nail polish remover to change my nail colour often, and different lipstick shades. But at one point, life put me in a place where I lost interest in dressing colorfully. Wherever I went, I just dressed up with whatever I got in hand. Many beautiful dresses, cosmetics, and ornaments slept for a year. And in that state, a man started loving me — a pure love. He loved me just for being myself, just the way I am. Whatever I am is his favourite. He loved me even with my facial hair, my hairy hands. His pure love was admiration for my inner beauty. It healed me and burnt all my insecurities. It made my life colorful again. All my sleeping collections of dresses, cosmetics, and accessories woke up. Now I love getting ready like a child who admires a beautiful elder getting ready with eyeliner and lipstick. It’s not for attraction. This man’s love brought me s...