My birthday’s in seven days. That’s right, seven fucking days more, and I’m no longer a teenager. This is a series wherein I write seven embarrassing things I can proudly say that I’ve done whilst “living da lyf”. Over the past two weeks, I’ve made one irrevocable decision: that I won’t shave my moustache. My […]Read More #birthdayweek: Malevolent moustache.
What is even life? What is the point Of the multitude of troubles Of the many problems We face each day Of the brunt of the expectations Thrust upon our poor souls each day Each hour, each minute “Do this, achieve that What good are you, if not for the rat race That everyone invariably […]Read More Expectations
Whilst I was packing yesterday, a range of emotions hit me. I opened my suitcase. I started stuffing all my clothes into it, folding them one by one. Separate bags for home clothes and formalwear, so that the latter don’t get too fucked up. Mom will shout. I put one, and then another, and then […]Read More Packing up.
Our college is fascinating, to say the least. It’s considered the country’s best for the field. We’re afforded six semesters full of hell, and following each one, an opportunity to do an internship (except the last semester, because then you’d hopefully have passed out and be in a job). I missed my first internship due […]Read More Internship woos.