Weigh My Heart.

Kiss your own fingertips
and hug your own curves.
You are made of waves and honey
and spicy peppers when it is necessary.
You are a goddess,
I hope you haven’t forgotten.

I am a mute receiver of fat jokes.

People sometimes look at the top of my head and crack a laugh that I’m a 19 year old grandma due to my premature greying.

Bad skin. Brace-face. Lumbering giant. 

I hear these tiny jabs and I laugh but if people were ever to see the words I carry with me, they would know of the weight their careless whispers are capable of bearing on my soul.

As someone who’s been on both ends of the ‘beauty-scale’ that society so deems, it never fails to disgust me the double-standards that are placed upon us. When I used to look thin, people scrutinized me for ‘never eating’, for having less curves. On the other hand, now when I look a little chubby, people point out my ‘rolls of fat’, suggest I should join the gym and stop ‘pigging out’. All these subtle hints at pretending to look out for me do the opposite effect and destroy my confidence, because they aren’t just hints…they are judgments.

There’s no ‘in between’. Nothing is ever good enough. You’ll never be good enough. 

It’s a struggle I face everyday. My confidence has grown leaps and bounds compared to a couple years ago when the chase for perfection led to a dark time ridden with anxiety and the thought that I’m not worthy as a human being. Because that’s how deep those words can run, and that’s why it’s important to realize that you and I don’t need to be tied down by society’s flawed perception of perfection.

Weigh my heart, not my body. 

Look me in the eye when I speak and see the fire in them, the passion, instead of joking about how many calories I need to burn. Watch me live my dreams and meet every single goal I set for myself, rather than joke about how going to the gym would be a better use of my time. Try and see how much your words can kill my sense of self-worth, and think again before you speak out of ‘good intentions’.

I am a warrior because I’ve learned to pick myself up when you put me down and remember that I am beautiful in any and every form. I’ve learned to love myself, accept my flaws and continuously strive to make myself a better person in the ways that actually matter. You should too. Because if you don’t love yourself, how can you expect others to? As my good ol’ friend Charlie said, “We accept the love we think we deserve.”

Prove to yourselves that you are your own hero. The one person that’ll stay by your side forever is yourself. Love that person. Look yourself in the mirror and appreciate every little thing there is to you – beyond what there is to see. Because as the saying goes, beauty is skin deep.

But your heart and soul weigh so much more.

 

Don’t.

I’m sick.

I’m sick of people thinking they know me when they don’t.
I’m sick of caring about what these ignorant fools say when that’s all their words really are: ignorant.

Don’t think you know all of me when you see the coals of my eyes glitter like falsified gems. Don’t think you can define me by the numbers that attach themselves to my self-worth. Don’t think you can pass the final verdict on my disposition as the Big Bad Bitch.

And if you do, don’t think I care.

Because I’ve learnt not to waste my time on people like you who think what they see is what they get.

I’ve learnt to be free.

Inspired by DailyPost
(although funnily enough, I wrote this exactly an hour before the prompt was out – ’twas meant to be!)

Life-Changing Plans for 2016

Wow.

It’s funny to think that the last time I wrote in this blog was right before I left off to university. Thursday, June 4, 2015. Now I’m back, I’m in the middle of my second semester with my next round of grueling mid terms right around the corner, and oh yes – busy formulating and executing some life-changing plans for 2016.

But let’s get back to that later.

So much time has passed and I’ve certainly learned a lot of lessons from the wonder that is life. Things like how to survive living on my own and away from home, organizing my priorities and a lot of other adultish stuff, the details of which I am not going to bore you with. (Yes, I consider myself an adult now that I know how to do my laundry and manage money, let me have my moment of glory please.)

There’s nothing like coming from home though, and luckily for me, my parents being the wonderful human beings they are decided to shift to Bangalore and got an apartment. Granted, because of the move, our Christmas and New Year’s celebration wasn’t as grand as normal, it still felt just right for me being able to celebrate it with the two people I wanted to most (minus my brother who I missed terribly). With that under wraps, finally coming from home again opened my eyes to a lot of opportunities I could grasp that I used to take for granted before.

Things like cooking again now that I’ve got my own kitchen. Re-starting my blogs and possibly even my Youtube channel (but let’s not get a little too ambitious) now that there’s no more blocked websites and such under the pain of the hostel WiFi. I can finally get back to having my own privacy and creative bubble to focus on my writing – something I dearly missed and almost completely stopped. All of this got me thinking, and I made a lot of resolutions which I am pretty damn sure I’ll succeed at keeping. After all, when there’s a will, there’s a way! One of these resolutions related to my writing, I’ll be sharing briefly with you guys on here.

So over all, I’m planning on doing the following in terms of my writing resolutions:

I’m also thinking of maybe opening up a section for submissions received from other authors who want to display their poetry or work on the blog. I might also hold monthly contests based on different theme. Maybe even interviews with other authors whose work I’ve read on Wattpad or Protagonize are very good and don’t have the reads they deserve. These are just some ideas I’m playing with for now.

  • Wattpad/Protagonize: constantly update both and do not lose touch with my writing. I’ve got stories like The Sparkle Toofus and Change Is Not Enough currently being updated consistently so that’s awesome. Reads, however, are lacking. So if you’re a member on either site, do go ahead and check out my stories if you’re into Teen Fiction. (You’re still invited to even if you’re not a member!)

I’m also planning on starting a new story offline that ISN’T going to be young adult romance. *le gasp* Beatrice writing something other than romance? Shocker, I know. But I’m looking forward to branching into fantasy and sci-fi this year so it’s definitely happening.

  • A poem a day to keep writer’s block at bay: a new poetry collection under the name twenty sixteen has been started. I’m going to try and aim for writing a poem every day this year. Let’s see how long this resolution lasts though (hopefully at least half the year).

  • The Project: as you guys might have noticed, I’ve been rambling on and on about this ‘exciting new project’ I’m starting off for this year. Wattpad members have a better idea of what this is about as I’ve made it public on there already.

(unofficial cover)

I’m planning on publishing my novel ‘I Promise’. But before it gets to a publish-worthy manuscript that I can ship off to different publishing houses, a lot of revisions will have to be made. And this is the part where YOU come in. Confused? I don’t blame you as I’m being terribly vague but just gear up for the next blog post. I’ll be giving out all the details then.

If you’re not already, make sure you are following me on Twitter, and Facebook where I will be posting most of the updates. Keep your eye an out on the blog too. You don’t want to miss this opportunity!

So yes. That was a very ‘brief’ plan of my year ahead in terms of art and literature. That was as brief as I could get. But I see a wonderful year ahead and I’m definitely grabbing onto every opportunity to make it awesome so that I have something great to look back on. It’s going to be hard work but I can’t wait to get started!

I hope you all had a great Christmas celebration filled with presents and family hugs, and an even better New Years Eve. But now that 2016 has arrived, let’s get the ball rolling and paint a new ending.

I definitely will be.

Frostbite for the Soul

“It is always sad when someone leaves home, unless they are simply going around the corner and will return in a few minutes with ice-cream sandwiches.” – Lemony Snicket, Horseradish


I’m three days away from saying goodbye to my parents, and only five away from my first day of university. Excited? I should be. A bundle of nerves? I very much am. 

By this point, I was hoping I’d be feeling a lot more upbeat about the adventure that lies ahead. It’s right around the corner. Three years spent away from home, in a huge city with a lot of amazing prospects that I am yet to discover. My overly dreamy and imaginative mind jumps places with the idea(s) of what 2015-18 would be like in the story that is my life. I’m determined to get this double-degree, yes, but apart from the professional side of it – there’s so much more that could happen! I could befriend a prodigy and take over the world through our shared intellect! Or I could stop someone else from taking over the world and transform myself into a super-heroine in the eyes of the public. Okay, okay. None of that is going to happen. In a realistic sense, the possibilities are…that I might meet my future husband! *le gasp* And get another book released, this time through a publishing house! 

My mind prances and dances around the possibilities of all these wonderful, crazy things happening but then, my emotions just step in. It feels like it just grabs me by the ankle as I’m in the middle of leaping through the air like a beautiful, and utterly graceful gazelle and then-


You get the idea. 

Sentiments are holding me back from feeling anything but excited right now. And that’s not a bad thing. If there’s one lesson I’ve learned from life so far, it is that it’s okay to be emotional about things. And it’s double-okay to allow yourself to feel them. I have attempted at blocking out ‘feeling’ things, and sometimes even forced myself to feel a certain way. It never worked – at least not in the long term. Reality demands to be lived as much as emotions are meant to be felt. I think that’s where I’m struggling right now.

What’s been in my heart the past couple weeks, which continues to amplify as the days grow numbered, is not just a case of the classic ‘cold feet’. It’s not exactly fear, it’s not exactly nerves. It’s somewhere in between that. Anxiety, maybe? But all that does is make me ask myself why I would feel anxious, now of all times.

I have moved several times in my life. I have gone through this process of saying goodbye to a place and the people in it again…and again…and again. It was tiring almost, but I like to think I’ve become an expert at dealing with leaving one place and starting life in another. And yet – this is the worst time. This uncertainty and the way my heart doesn’t stop to rest but only beats faster, struggling somewhat with each pump – it’s never been like this before.

I’m back in the country I’m naturally inclined to call home. India is where I’m from. It’s where my parents are from, and theirs, and theirs before that. It’s the place I should identify as my home but I never have. And yet, knowing that I’m strapping myself down for a minimum stay of three years, and a maximum of the rest of my life here is supposed to make me feel comforted. I feel the exact opposite as trepidation ceases my heart in its painful, and literally breath-stealing grip. Ironically enough, this is the one time my expertise in this area of life fails me. And I know exactly the reason why.

I’ve never once identified a single country as home. Due to the fact that I was constantly on the move, I would always perceive a particular place as another temporary point of stay, rather than a home. I would prepare myself for the moment when I’d have to pack my bags, say goodbye, and depart, yet again to have the process start over. It was a great big circle of life. And the one thing that stayed all through out the most inconstant, ever-changing life I have is my parents. My family. I didn’t realize the meaning of what ‘home’ truly is until a couple weeks ago.

Home isn’t a physical place. Least, it doesn’t have to be for a third culture kid like myself. Home is Mom. Home is Dad. They’ve always been there for me, through every single moment of my life up to now.

  • They were there to witness my first time off to a funny little nursery school named ‘Tom and Jerry’ in the magical city of Cairo. I had thrashed and wailed and screamed – not wanting to leave their side for one second – not used to being away from them.
  • They were there to see me present my first ever middle-school Science Fair project in Khartoum, and witness the moment I returned home with my chest puffed out as I told them I won first-place.
  • In Sierra Leone, they were there at my O-Level and AS-level graduation ceremonies and watched proudly from afar when I said my opening speech and received my certificates.
  • During my short three months of studying in Madurai, Mom would wake up early in the morning and send me off with encouraging smiles and a lunch box filled with delicious home-cooked food. Dad would be there to welcome me back home after a tiring day in our evening Skype sessions, wanting to know everything about how my day went.
  • And during senior year in England, they were my own personal cheer-leaders – motivating me and telling me I could handle taking up and teaching myself A2 Accounting when I lacked faith in myself as a self-teacher (and were there to celebrate with hugs and kisses when I ended up getting the highest final grade for the course).

And that’s just all the academic stuff. If it weren’t for their support and guidance through the chaotic stages of teenage life (and let me tell you right here and now, it was not pretty), I would not have survived and grown up to be the strong, independent woman I am now.

Dad and I would stay up certain nights till the early hours of the morning, talking about social pressures, love and relationships, religion and God, and our shared dreams of the future. I would sit in the kitchen and watch Mom cook the food of the Gods (honestly, she is talented) while hearing me ramble on about my thoughts on feminism, favorite characters and whatnot. They’ve both been deeply hurt by me during my rebellious times and were there to take me with open arms when I came back to them with a heart full of regret and sorrow. They’ve been there through it all – to wipe away the tears from my first heartbreak to seeing me vow away romance for the rest of my single life. They’ve put up with my sometimes ridiculous optimism and nurtured me out of my toxic pessimism.

This is turning out into something I wanted to avoid: utterly cliche but I’m not going to delete a word because every bit is as true as cheese.

My parents are my home.
And I will be leaving them.

I always longed for a place to identify as where I belong to. A place I can ‘root’ myself in. It’s taken me far too long to realize that I’ve always had it, a moment’s touch away, in the form of two beautiful, selfless beings God gifted me as my mother and father. And it’s my utter blindness and lack of enough appreciation that kept me from realizing this. But I guess that’s how we, as humans, function, right? We never realize the value of something until we are faced with the reality of having to part from it.

That is why this gut-wrenching dread has been filling me up for weeks now. I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to face a day without their constant presence beside me, physically. I don’t even want to imagine having to come back to a place without the two people I call ‘home’ in it. Because that’s what I’ve had all my life.

This is more than just your regular ‘oh, yeah, she’s leaving off to college and is dealing with parting from family but she’ll get the hang of it soon’ thing. Because my dad is my best-friend and my mom is my sister. They are pieces of my soul and pieces I am afraid to part from physically out of fear that something impure might take its place.

Okay, that just got a whole lot deeper but I’m basically saying I’m afraid that when I screw life up, or when life screws me up (which I am very sure will happen), I won’t be able to face it without them. I know I have to – that’s part of growing up. Becoming an adult. All that shizz. I just don’t want to do that.

I want to be the little baby girl who clung onto her Dad and Mom’s legs like a vine when they dropped her off at her first day at the nursery. In my 18 years of life, I proudly call myself a young woman right now. An ‘adult’. But in truth…I can still identify to the girl I was then. The girl I still am.  Because right now – I really want to scream out, “Amma! Appa! Don’t leave me!” again.

No offense to my two future roommates – girls, we might end up becoming great friends and have bucket loads of fun but you do not come close to my parents at all and never, ever will. They are, and always will be, the one place I call home.

Mom, Dad, you probably won’t see or read this for a while because we’re having crazy days right now and still have a lot to deal with over the next few weeks (and months). But this is my open love letter to the both of you. Yup, it’s all over the Internet and I really should have said these things to your face but what can I say? I am a blubbering idiot when it comes to expressing how I feel verbally. This, on the other hand, is a somewhat organized mess of what my brain is thinking, and heart is feeling.

I initially wanted to title this post ‘My Very Cold Feet’ but that doesn’t come at all close to how I feel. This is way past cold feet. This is down-right frostbite of the soul. But I’m hoping that I’ll warm up to the life that unfolds over the next three years. And just maybe, I might find something else to call home too.

Here’s to hoping it happens!