Confessions of a sane mind , interrupted.

Love is a hug lasting for 20 seconds extra.  Love is having a crappy day and coming to an old friend selling  you SHEV puri. One that makes all your worries go away. Love is your dad sending you messages that start with  'Check your common sense'. Love is  friends giving you proxies after calling you  a bitch. Love is when your mother teams up with you so you can  pick on your jackass  sibling. Love is the jackass sibling doing your chores(while on a rant). Love is a a dog. Love is a kiss that's given immediately  after you declare that you hated the previous  one. Love is gossiping  with your grandmother over a packet of Lays. Love is 'A walk to Remember'. Love is when she tells her,  that  she loves her better than any guy ever could. Love is when you turn down the lights and put on your head phones. When you love yourself. Love is when he tells you that it's okay if you move on.  That even that won't  change his love for you. Love is new start

"When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother,  'What will I be?'  What will I be?  What will I be? At 6, right after singing 'Country Roads' on stage, I told my dad that I wanted to be a singer. He hugged me. 8 years later, after numerous shuffles from wanting to be a teacher, a painter, a stamp collector, a librarian, an author, a sharp looking business woman,  I told him again, " Dada, I want to be a singer" He didn't hug me this time. At 14, I was a chubby teenager who had no friends. But I had a stereo, and it played Avril Lavigne's ' 2007 album, 'Best Damn Thing', over and over, until I could sing every note and rap every word. At 15, I agreed with mum and concluded that a singing career is frivolous and risky. So I decided to ace tests ( and I did). But secretly I would spend roughly all day singing.  Mostly Shania Twain and Taylor Swift. Yes, I had a Taylor Swift phase. And no, I'm not that good. I'm okay

When they tell you to run like a girl, how will you run? When they tell you that homosexuality is unnatural, what will you do? When they judge you by the skin of your ancestors, what will you say? In order to answer these questions,  let’s correct the question. How will WE run? What will WE say? What will WE do? A mother gets a maternity leave when a child is born. But what about the equally responsible father, Who tends to his crying child and starts his day at dawn? A father too wants to spend time with his child, He too changes her diapers and spends every second to make  her smile. What about the fact that it’s okay for my brother to stay out late? And me doing the same is unacceptable, because mama yells  ‘Foolish child! Out in the dark, terrible men wait!’ What about the fact that when we study sex education, Our education only makes us aware about heterosexual sex? Speaking of education, my fifth grade teacher once told me  That,