I’ve never finished a TV show series as quick as ’13 Reasons Why’, and I’m shaken to the very core- in fact there are goose bumps trembling across my body, in waves if I might add- to and fro- to the beat of my thoughts.
It’s eerie how well I could relate to all the characters in this show- to all the 13 reasons why a girl ended her life. Ah. Look at this; I’m making things about me again. Typical. But isn’t that what most of us do? We; who are a society of bullies, plastering ourselves with fashion-forward style, smiles and aesthetics, raking in meaningless ‘like’ after ‘like’, deluding ourselves with our “perfect” existence- when we could be so much more. Instead of being tools of destruction, we could be the building blocks, the pillars for support to those crumbling inside. We could be so much more than an empty box with a Wi-Fi connection, really.
It’s an amazing series. Watch it. Understand it. Make it amount to something- for all those ‘Hannah Bakers’ out there; for the sake of this one, make them smile, and believe in themselves. Show them that there is humanity out there in a world where so many get lost, that there is a compass somewhere just waiting to guide them home.
R-oaring thunder, deafening screams
A- few drops of rain igniting beams
I-n sheer ecstacy, people came out, to love and live, and whoop and shout
‘N-ice’ is too bland a word; to use for rain
7th May; the first day of many.
The day I was reduced to being a number. I became a four digit ‘candidate’, with nothing but numbers to make my name. Numbers. I had never been good with them. I did injustice to them, just as they did injustice to me. It was ironic that I would end up as a number when it was the numbers that were condemning me, oppressing me, sucking out all my other reasons for existence. I feared that all the times I said things against numbers, it was the numbers I had when I was stripped away from my name, my identity and the things that made me different and unique. Numbers. They are what I get after months and years of strife, tears and deprivation of sleep. They are all I get as a result of hard work and attempts made to understanding concepts. Numbers… just numbers…
As a student appearing for my final exams, I was simply and seemingly irrevocably scared of numbers; of what the numbers might do to me. They had the power to either lift me towards the sky, above the clouds and beyond, or let me sink through the ground, like quicksand; only quicker and with more finality; to be buried and forgotten, forever. Numbers. They are more powerful than you think, closer than what you believe, and more painful if you get on their wrong side. Numbers. They change the world by changing the heart one by one. By coming to those who respect it, and rejecting those who don’t. Numbers… they are simply numbers. But unequivocally injected in our lives, and we can do nothing but try to take the best out of what we’ve got and make it what we have.
They are numbers after all.
But are they just numbers…?
A person can dream; above all wishing, pleading, bribing and begging.A person like me can dream of being an only child; but alas! Usually fate is not on our side and instead of having a bar of chocolate to your self, you end up having to share…
Choosing between Fire and Ice; I think the option of having younger siblings is better; it is better to pick Fire over Ice. Fire is beautiful, enlightening (in the literal sense), and full of crackle and life. You can play with Fire, perhaps that is the best thing; to live a life of adventure, rather than sitting huddled up, while ice crawls over you and freezes you to death.
It is better to be the elder one; to make laws and expect them to be followed; to punish the guilty in countless, unimaginable ways. It is lovely to be followed by people with unwavering loyalty and awed respect. It is lovely to receive amazing presents on your birthdays or other special occasions because often in the onset of life people forget the tiny joys of life are really big in reality, and that it is the small and heartfelt things, like giving a rose to someone as a means of showing love and respect, or singing a song to lighten the mood. It is better to have a younger sibling because it is the young ones who are truly who they appear to be and are not corrupted by time and age to lose the essence of what sibling relationships should be.
It is the young ones who make you laugh, when you’d rather cry, the same young ones who try to do everything they can (irrespective of what their mother would say if she knew) to make the ‘big ones’ smile and acknowledge them. It is the young ones who grow and blossom in your heart to receive from them the greatest shares of your love. They are the worms that live inside you, next to you, all about you; and no matter how much you claim to detest them; you love them deep inside.
Of all the things I love than most, I love Fire. I love to play with it, and help make it grow. A grown up sibling, an Elder is less approachable. You cannot mould it the way you’d please. Ice can be stubborn, irresponsive, and makes you dress up the way it pleases. You cannot love the dull ice, the way you love the Sparky Fire.
Fire always lives inside you; it makes you warm, and affectionate. Hence, Fire has my vote; there is nothing better than an energetic ‘young one’, bent on loving you till you burn. 😉