Pages from My Diary of Life

  I have come to the conclusion that there are two versions of me. There's me. 👩 And then there's my brain. 🧠 Unfortunately, my brain has absolutely no faith in me.😑 Whenever I try something new, my brain immediately assumes that disaster is around the corner. It doesn't matter how simple the task is.  Going to a new place? Dangerous.  Trying something new? Suspicious.  Existing peacefully? Highly questionable. Take train travel, for example. Most people see a train and think, " Nice. Transportation." My brain sees a train and immediately starts writing a disaster screenplay. " What if you get on the wrong train?"🫥 "What if you miss your station?"😭 "What if the train somehow ends up in another city?"🫨 "What if aliens board at the next stop?👽 At that point, I don't even know why aliens are involved, but my brain is committed to the plot. The funny thing is that I'm an extrovert. I like people. I like conversations. ...

  In 9th grade, we were supposed to host our seniors’ farewell —that was the whole point.  The big responsibility given to us as juniors was to organize and manage the entire event for our seniors. And because of that, the inevitable moment came: the responsibility distribution sheet. We all knew it was coming since the start of the year, but still acted like it was some distant myth that wouldn’t actually happen to us. Until it did. The moment the teacher walked into class holding that sheet, the entire room shifted. Not loudly, not dramatically—just that collective internal realization that says: “ Oh. Today is the day .” She placed it down casually, like it was just another piece of paper. But for us? That sheet might as well have been labeled: “Choose your level of suffering.” • The Sheet of Doom (official school edition ) • The categories were simple on paper, but emotionally complex in execution: Decorations Anchoring Invitation cards DJ setup Games coordination Seating ...

So, I turned 17 years old on 9 th June ✨ A few years ago, this would have been a major event. I would have counted down the days, planned everything in advance, and reminded everyone within a five-kilometre radius that my birthday was approaching. Now ? I am staring at a genetics chapter and wondering whether my viva examiner would accept "but it was my birthday" as a valid excuse. For some reason, nobody warns you that birthdays become less about excitement and more about logistics as you grow older. Instead of wondering what gift I'll get, I am wondering whether I can survive the next forty-eight hours. The strangest part is how fast time moves now. I genuinely feel like 2026 started yesterday, yet somehow it's already June, I am in Standard 12, and seventeen is standing at my doorstep. Honestly, I would like a refund. To make matters worse, my birthday and chaos seem to have developed a very close friendship. Every year's birthday is a living proof of it. Last...