Just A Small Rant

via Daily Prompt: Instinct

I don’t share my grief with people.

Call it instinct. Or call it pride.

Show of sympathy by others when I’m grieving is just that – a show. “I understand what you’ve been through…” No, you don’t. You are just trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but the words you speak are as genuine as Donald Trump’s tan.

When I’m grieving, leave me to myself. If you want to help, make a cup of tea.

Don’t give me the “There is a life after death”, “It was meant to be” bullshit. Please.

I may not be an adult, but that doesn’t mean you need to dumb down serious things like death for me. If it hurts, it hurts. No two ways about it.

I like my tablets like I like my words – without sugarcoating.


The ‘Sporting’ Spirit: Part 1

Note: This is a series of misadventures in my attempts to be noticed in the sporting world of my school. These are intended to be of humorous nature (though they’re real, of course) and are not to be taken seriously.

When I was a child, I was always made to think that I rock at everything. Well, parents tend to do that a bit. But what happened was that I grew a bit overconfident.

See, till now, I’ve always rocked at academics. Never have I gone below the grade of A2 in my class. Yeah, people call me nerd, bookworm, and all that, but they know who’s the boss when they need help in studies.

But I always wanted to prove my mettle in sports. I had huge dreams of being on TV channels, with the anchor saying, ‘This young lady here is not only the school topper, she’s also the best sportsperson in her district!!!’ and that sort of stuff.

My dreams started failing from kindergarten itself. We had an obstacle race. Three people competed, I and two of my best friends. The race was pretty simple, actually. Large chairs were placed in a garden. You had to run from the starting point to the ending, and back to the starting again, either by jumping over, or ducking under the obstacles.

The race begin. I envisioned myself as swift as the wind. I jumped over the chairs and reached the end point first. Confident of winning on the way back, I decided to try something different. Instead of jumping over, I tried ducking. That proved fatal. I got stuck.

Needless to say, by the time I was out, my friends were given the gold and silver medal. Sorry, no bronze medal for you, they said.

Till this day, I hate obstacle races.

For Writing 101, Day Four