Shh! Not A Writer.

            Plath’s fig tree in The Bell Jar , isn’t just a metaphor; it’s basically the reality of our quarter-life crisis. Esther sees a tree full of figs, each one a possible life path, but she’s stuck, terrified that choosing one will mean losing all the others. Honestly? Same. Whether it’s choosing love, career, or which city to live in, the fear hits like a truck. You want everything, and you want to do everything perfectly, but that perfectionism slowly strangles your ability to move.           Let’s talk love; because that fig is always shining like it’s covered in aesthetic Pinterest lighting. Sometimes we stand in front of the love-fig thinking, “Should I pick it? What if it rots in my hand? What if there’s a better fig on another branch?” And then boom, heartbreak happens. Not the cute breakup-playlist kind, the type that makes you rethink your entire emotional existence. You start wondering if you’re bad at c...

                You know, I read a line the other day,  “How many versions of you are buried in the places you once called home?”   and instantly, you showed up in my mind like a ghost. It made me think about all the selves I left behind in the spaces we once shared. And honestly? It’s strange how I still talk to you as if you’re listening. Like I can still meet your eyes in the silence, like closure is a thing that might still arrive if I just keep speaking into the dark.           I wonder if you ever think about those versions of me, the girl who trusted you too much, loved you too loudly , hoped for you too bravely . I buried her the day you left without warning, without explanation, without even a single word to hold onto. Yet every now and then, I find myself returning to her grave, leaving apologies like flowers, whispering “ I’m sorry you didn’t get the love you deserved .” You should kno...

                      If there is an OG movie for girlhood , it’s the 2004 Mean Girls . That movie practically raised a whole generation on the idea of cliques, girl codes, and the chaos of navigating female friendships. But somewhere between the Burn Book and “You can’t sit with us,” we also inherited a very distorted idea of what girlhood and solidarity actually look like. And that’s when I thought, why not talk about what a real girl’s girl actually is? Because spoiler: it’s not Regina, and it’s not even Cady on her best behaviour.           You know, people have this cute little idea that being a “girl’s girl” means having a massive girl gang, matching scrunchies, never mingling with boys, the gossip queens. Honestly? That’s barely the trailer, not the movie. A real girl’s girl is defined by how she shows up for other women when things are uncomfortable, messy, or downright painful.  ...

                                                    You know those weekends where your to-do list is basically screaming, and you’re just… lying there? Yeah. That was me. A whole mountain of work sitting on my desk, judging me silently (loudly), and I still chose to rot in my hostel room like a decorative plant (atleast the plant has some purpose). And in that glorious state of academic decay, I decided, why not make it worse by doing something better? So, I put on a movie. Not just any movie, the OG movie made for all the delusional single girlies out there, Bro! Girl! Bestie! WHO allowed this film to read me like that? (ded inside)           Every dialogue felt like someone had slapped me with a truth I had specifically not ordered. Like I’m there, wrapped in my blanket, and the movie is like, “Hey, babe, let’s unpack a...