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How Self Deprecating Thoughts Shape You into a Shell

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When I look around myself, I see everybody moving, working, accomplishing things. Someone is studying, some are working on their assignments, a few are working hard to earn, some are travelling, others are photographing, many are baking, writing, publishing books, leading a group, speaking in the public! Everyone has done and is doing things. And while I am looking in all my directions, I see not even a single person who is sitting idle. I forgot to tell you that I did not look at myself lately, which is why I could not find anyone idle. Not carefree, but idle. No work, yet stressed. No worry, yet depressed. Many friends, yet lonely. Just the basic woman-on-period stuff, you see. But I am talking about doing something. Motivational speeches, soulful writings, poems, sumptuous food, experiments, inventions, art, architecture... Everyone is into one field or another and yielding decent money. Whereas, I, despite being a woman of man...
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Because you don't need Make-Up to Cover-Up!

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I saw her today; like I do every day. To my utter surprise, she seemed content. She had an unusual glow on her face, a smile which had a romantic story hidden to its depth, and a glint in her eyes which spoke of both apprehension and passion. These days, she keeps her blonde hair open, applies kohl in her eyes, wears her lipstick, and fancies looking at herself in the mirror at least seventeen times a day. She has started using the bentonite clay mask over her face, putting a layer each of foundation, primer, the BB Cream, and the bronzer before stepping out of the house and applying the rose water before going to bed. She has bought three slim-fit jeggings, got four of her tops tailored, so they accentuate her feminine form even more, and she has stolen my favourite perfume bottle from my cupboard. The little bulge of her belly, the flabby thighs, upper-lip hair, and the acne marks on her forehead-she has grown conscious to all the traits that carry with them a formidable...
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The Trauma A Long Distance Gives

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The sound of loud honking was deafening my ears, but I did not want to close the window. That was the only source of ventilation in this goddamn room, after all. I had tried almost everything to drown the inner turmoil, but it just won’t budge. I was cursing myself for choosing this time of the month to visit my parents, but there was barely anything I could do. I did what I had to, but I guess meeting her was not in my fates, not for now or ever. She was getting used to my absence, no matter how vehemently she claimed otherwise. I know she loved me, but it was not just the same. We had grown apart. Not in the physical, practical distant way (ours was already a long distance) but in the emotional sort of way where she would not stop me from going. I have never been the one to stop anyone. As people say about me, I was the one to let it stay unfixed and to just walk away, with no questions asked and no answers sought. But with her, things had been different initially. When...
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