These days, blogging’s become like a daily ritual despite myself having just begun a couple of days ago. However, today I sat wondering what I would write about and nothing came to attention. Although amidst all that brain traffic, the day moved on quite smoothly.
My alarm buzzed Infected Mushrooms’ Becoming Insanse just after dawn broke through and light seeped in through my curtains. How I hate sunshine in the morning when all I want to do is cram in that few more minutes of hibernation. On the short drive to school, it’s always The White Stripes and/or Carolina Liar struggling to start a new day, through my earphones.
The car slows down in front of those blue gates that have been a part of my eight o’ clock agenda for the last (I don’t believe it!,) thirteen years of my living as I get out and sling my backpack across my shoulder, switch my cellphone to silent mode and keep fiddling with my drumsticks as I make my way to the classroom four floors above. Sometimes, I’m dreading entering it, at others, I can’t wait for my exuberance to burst through and capture all the gloominess and criticism that subsides.
It’s always the same damn thing. You think you know your acquaintance turned friend just before you batter another eyelid, and there they are, at that risk free level of being an acquaintance. Earlier, I used to actually care as to what someone else would think of me. And today, I feel I’m a person who’s found peace with herself just because I don’t care about what someone else would. And those someone elses, in this case, would obviously happen to be your classmates. Thick, thin, you think you know them, and vice versa, when it’s really a *more* ferocious world out there.
It doesn’t matter. To many, it may still do, but you’ll realise it soon enough, just like I had the epiphany. And I’m glad I did, sometime back so that it’s saved me all that trouble of having to not be able to discover myself another notch.
Teenage dramedies (drama/comedies) right from the early ages, (and no, I don’t mean Mean Girls and Hilary Duff and what not, for all those shallow minded beings reading this,) have been portraying high school life to be one of the worst phases that one is put through. Maybe it’s not, and maybe it’s just because of the hype created that one feels “Oh my! I’m in high school now.. Where is all that drama when I need it the most?! I’ve got to have some amount of chilli to spice up my life!”
Oh come on, don’t tell me that hasn’t crossed your subconscious?
The faster you get through it, the better.
There’s always that one section of people who feel they’re superior to others. In what sense? Just because they know the words Tommy Hilfiger, have relatives living in the States who bring them the latest Tamagotchis every month, possess size two physiques and are under the impression that they’re, well, hot. Pretty.
Then, you have the normal people. Who you thought you’d made friends with but then they just turn out to be mundane back-stabbers. If there was anything usual in that, per se and you can’t really help it but be around such an environment because well, you’ve got to work with them. You have no choice.
You also have the nerds, who haven’t tasted even a slice of the real world but think they know it all. They’re simple but shrewd and think they’re too good for anyone else.
There’s always that one or two extra people who have the potential to be nice in it’s true sense.
And then, there’s always that one weird social outcast: Dark, shark, sarcastic. Listens to indie music, blogs. Reads books on economics, and well, you get the picture, does a number of other things that aren’t really part of the status quo.
And in this case, you guessed it, that’s me.
And we, observe.
Cliques, are just so yesterday. People need to realise that there’s so much more than to just throw spite onto each others’ faces. So much more than to just be resentful. And by being these things, you don’t know how time passes, you don’t realise what changes have overcome you, and neither do you see yourself placed anywhere. Fourteen years is indeed, a very long time to have spent somewhere. And by the end of it, you start hating it, and wish time passed by without that whir of color and emotion. But that’s only because everyday becomes a battle with yourself, trying to find the real you.
Maybe the above mentioned’s just too confusing. Even I’m not really sure of what I’m typing. But I’m typing in a fast, assured manner.
And towards the end of it, when you think it’s *just* the beginning, it’s actually almost over. Before, of course, the real climax is about to begin. But that’s another chapter altogether. Something that I’m not yet aware of and is yet to be written.
Do yourself a favour. And disengage your ascetic self from such blasé labels, because in the long run, you just don’t know who you might end up hurting, you just might not know who you turn into.
And before you do, it just might be too late.
x EdgyShark x