The Stamp Paper Scam, Real Story by Jayant Tinaikar, on Telgi's takedown & unveiling the scam of ₹30,000 Cr. READ NOW
The Stamp Paper Scam, Real Story by Jayant Tinaikar, on Telgi's takedown & unveiling the scam of ₹30,000 Cr. READ NOW

Shivangni Saha

Drama Others


Shivangni Saha

Drama Others

Thoughts of a 14-Year-Old Girl

Thoughts of a 14-Year-Old Girl

9 mins


Sometimes, I'll go outside. Sit on the ledge on the garden terrace, with my earphones plugged in, in my short shorts, wrapped in a blanket and ponder at the night sky. I wish I could say starry sky. But this is all this developing, industrial city gives out. And it's enough.

Today, mom came back home from office earlier than usual. I know I should be happy for that reason, after all, I live in a rather isolated boarding school up on a mountain, meaning that only these short-lived vacations are when I can physically be with her, but her presence also means less television or anime time for me. Honestly, why am I complaining, it's for my own good.

I should start off by saying that today was not that productive. But then again, that's every day for me here. I can't blame anyone or anything, I don't. After that terrorist attack, almost everyone left back to their native countries. The Indian community in Dhaka rapidly depleted. I only have 2 friends here. Whom of course, also travel away at some point from this place, as my vacation also means their vacation. But the time they are here, with me, it's majestic. My older brother solemnly visits, but what can the guy do? Third year of college, a job for co-op, trying to make a living as soon as possible, I can't say anything but that I'm proud of him. And the times we do meet, it's as blissful and exhilarating as ever. And well yes, if you don't have people to go out with, why go out at all? Besides, Dhaka isn't exactly the city for a young girl like me to go around about right now. Actually, it never was.

But like I said, I don't blame anything or anyone. I enjoy the solitude.


I remember this one day, I came out of my bedroom, in hopes of something to eat which wasn't fruit. I ended up discovering my brother with a bowl of my favourite cereal out on the TV lounge couch, running a midnight Friends marathon in the dark of the house. And well, who wouldn't join? Two of my favourite causes for happiness- food and television. Oh and of course… you too, Saurav. Ha-ha, whoops, might've forgotten ya'- just kidding. He's one of my main causes to smile, if not my only. From the late night coffee sessions, we'd have in his room, back from when I was a day scholar and life was good, to all the tears he's wiped off my flustered face. It's always been him. Any other boy just comes and goes. But then again, I don't blame them because at the end of the day, it's not really me pushing them away or them distancing from me, it's life. As cheesy as that sounds, it's really quite simple. If life wants us to be together, we will. No matter what, nothing will tear us apart. But if something does, then that's just life doing its job. If distancing us is its job, if distancing us is happening for a good reason, and it better be good, then I am okay with accepting all of the temporary pain and tears that come after the separation. It is temporary for a reason, after all.


Hey, have you ever been dying because of something, and you're pretty sure about what it is that's killing you, but you can't seem to explain it or even put it into a few words or even a word? For yourself nor for anyone? So you just repeatedly keep saying "I don't know", both out loud and mentally. It's torture isn't it? It's happened quite a bit to me now. Fourteen's been such a shit age. And maybe I should be excited that this year's coming to an end at last. Maybe I am. But then, I don't know what the next year or age holds for me, because, what if it's just- worse? Knowing me, I can never seem to fully let go of the past, yet I'm forever indulged in this never-ending, ear-ripping silence of worrying about the future. If you didn't already get it, that is what I meant by "ear-ripping silence", was that the silence is so loud that it just makes you want to tear your ears off. I just thought that that was an oxymoron worthy of some recognition, so. But this is starting to get very sad. It's kind of hard to write a book on happy things when a lot of your memories are mainly clouded by sadness.

But that's the funny thing you see. Not going to lie, my life is definitely full of happier experiences than sad ones. 80% of them are happy so far, in fact. And the rest are well, sad. Yet, I keep on reminiscing about the bad parts of me, of my life. I don't know why. I've got more than I deserve. More than enough. I have a home, a loving family, a cool-ass phone and laptop, nice clothes, a great educational school and some amazing friends, freedom, good food, shelter… so why is it so hard to focus on the little things that literally, keep me alive? Alive. Fucking alive. Shouldn't that itself be enough? And here I am spewing out nonsense about how I want to kill myself. "She said this", "he thinks that". Fuck them. Just fuck them. But even though I hate doing that to myself, bringing myself down, I can't seem to live without it. 

Maybe someone does have it worse. Okay, a lot of people out there definitely have it much worse, but, for me, right now, this is bad. This is terrible. I am sensitive, not spoilt. And this shit is what's hurting me. What's making me wish I were dead. So please don't give me those sentimental and "motivational" quotes about how that poor man who went through literal hell managed to do this. Or how this mistreated orphan who came to die a horrible death, would always stay smiling, even through the hard times.

Because their hard times are theirs. Their life, their story, their livelihood, their options, choices, they're all theirs. And these are mine. Of course, I mean no offence to people like them in reality, they true are a different type of warrior. But this is my life, my story, my options, my choices, my background. You don't know any of them- so don't confuse any of them with another person's. They had it hard, I get it. I had it easier than I thought, I get it. But at that moment, even though it was easier than I thought to some people, it was a demon's den for me, at that moment.

I came across this quote on Instagram some time ago. It said:

"Saying you can't be sad because others have it worse, is like saying you can't be happy because others have it better."

And that hit me. Boy did that hit me. Right on my very much invisible groin, and let me just say- that shit hurts like a bitch.

Ugh, gimme' a sec. Need to pee.


It's school right now. I have French. Substitute teacher is here due to various reasons. So, I can do this.


My eyes have this really annoying condition in which the liquid at the retina just feels dry and cold. A lot like the hearts of the people here, ya' know? Woah, that escalated. Anyway, I keep having to squint tightly and the presence of my dark circles isn't helping either. Every two seconds it feels like there's sticky crust outlining my eyeballs, caused by the dryness of my "eye goo". It makes me lethargic as fuck. I am lethargic as fuck. But only when class comes around, I don't know why… ya' get me?


Life feels pretty difficult to get through at this point. Fourteen: tears, fake smiles, acceptance of exclusion, acceptance of third wheeling, a few cuts, etc.


Cutting helped release the pain, but it was temporary (it wasn't deep nor did it continue for long, I apologise if this upsets or offends you in anyway). People always said I'd get addicted, but like I told them back, "I won't". And I didn't.


Huh… I honestly don't know what to talk about right now.

 Memories? Happy Memories? Memories of home.

 2017. Summer vacation. End of 7th grade- end of a nightmare.


Saurav was able to come home for a reasonable amount of time as he was still a freshman in college. It was amazing. No friends, no independent outings, just my brother, the gym, anime, cereal and baking. And of course, the mornings and evenings spent on the terrace garden. Loud music gently grazing the edges of the clouds, clouds of cotton carefully floating in an ocean of either, purple, crimson, pink, blue and a comforting, windy grey. Those were the rainy days. The best days.


Listening to a pretty sad song right now.


It's sad, but it doesn't feel sad. I mean it does, but it feels so beautifully peaceful and loving at the same time, it makes me question the tone of the song. Like, I can literally just imagine myself doing that really cheesy pose with your arms widespread, standing bare feet in a magical garden of magical flowers as the wind caresses your face and the sun glitters onto you. Cheesy, I know. But buried deep inside of all my love for scary nights, bleeding scars on my wrists, the gloomy skies and lonely yet calming rain, a part of me still wants to remain that girl who enjoyed ordinary blue skies and sunshine.


So, I guess all of this makes me wonder- why do we listen to sad songs for fun? Even for joy? Are we so terribly yet unnoticeably and subconsciously sad that we're used to the pain? Is that why we can listen to depressing beats without any hesitance? Because, it now feels like home?


Honestly. Emotions are so stupid.

 You know what I hate? Math.

 It's like boys.


Do you really need it in your life? No. Do you have to experience it anyways? Yes. Is it unnecessarily very complicated to understand? Yes. Man, exams are in a week and I feel so behind. It's like, I know I need to study, but for once, my body just won't cooperate. I don't know why, but for the first time in a long time, during one of the most important times, I'm procrastinating.

Wonderful! It's finally exam week, or time or whatever, and I. Am. Procrastinating.




Seriously though, someone please help. I'm the type that stresses over everything, from the smallest to the biggest. I overthink every single thing. I get anxious over every single thing. Exams are absolutely not suitable for my mental health, but then again, are they ever suitable for anyone? I just wish I could sleep, forever. Curled up in the corner of my warm bed. Two blankets on me. Dreamin' of whatever either lifts or tears my heart apart… so this is what I mean by "death". By, "I want to die." "I'm going to kill myself." I don't actually want to die, of course not. I just want to sleep for all of eternity. And that's what death offers best. But I still want to be able to breathe. Wake up at one point to the footsteps of a quick squirrel hustling across the skylight of my room in the dorm. But not get up, you know? Never get up. Never use my brain. Never feel pain. Just alone, just resting, just enlightened from all of the drama, silly equations, gossip, mile runs. I'm so tired. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. I'm tired.

 I just want to die.


I just want to sleep.

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