Expectations? The Opposite.

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And you've officially lost my trust.
And for what reason? 
You misunderstanding My Objective.

All you people (especially teenagers) reading this, lemme tell you one thing. You would not want to experience that. I'll repeat, NOT. This form of a disappointment is much worse than a break-up, lemme tell you. Not because people question your statement, but solely because it is the people whom you trusted the most who place this question. And that is what kills you, literally.
So why am I telling this to teens? Because it's the teens who completely love their fellowmates. They only think, "Ha! She's not gonna mistake this; she's definitely gonna support me." And then, *BAM!* She comes to you saying, "What the hell!!"
So basically, what I'm trying to say is, never trust anyone that easily. There's this strong epidemic-sort-of-thing that is prevailing in today's teens. Trust me, I know that. Mobile phones and the internet have completely filled us teens with intolerance, and has robbed us of our capability to properly look into things. Why, even I have become pretty impatient after this tech-revolution caught hold of me. I do regret any acts of impatience, but another problem steps in here. The depression I'm much prone to kind of reminds me of my insecurities. I can't possibly share my thoughts with the people I've just hurt, so I remember my friends. But again. What if I text someone and end up having my mood spoiled even more. One text. One fantasy that my step would free me of a little bit of the stress I'm going through. And what happened? You must know that by now.
You know what? Thinking of things like this, I really wish I go back to being five or six. I had had people who wouldn't stab me behind my back, or even those who wouldn't misunderstand one tiny thing I say. And now? I'm finding it hard to decide which comrade to trust and which one to not.
Life's a hard riddle, isn't it?

C-L-E-A-N-U-P

I'm quite a messy student. Every time I study something, I'm too lazy to, you know, put my books back in my cupboard. So I just leave them on my desk. I do pretty much the same thing with my toys and stuff. I take them out, play with them for an hour or two, and once I'm done, I stuff them into a corner, maybe on my bed in such a way that my parents can't see it (LOL), And, yea. They lie there so long as two things happen- either I get pissed off with seeing them there, orrr, obviously, my parents find out.

A similar thing happened to me, just recently. My books were on my table for like, say, three weeks, and my mother was pretty sick of asking me to put them back in. So after like many rounds of reminding me to clean it up, my mum gave me this pissed off look that made me do it. Yes, lazy as I was, I stood up to clean my desk!!

Well, I shouldn't just say, I stood up to clean my desk. You know how a computer table looks, don't you? Well, my table looks something like the one in the picture. There's a couple of drawers, as you can see, and the top one in my drawer is home to my diary, a couple of pens, some keychains, and other such partly useless stuff. That desk makes me go OMG every time I open it. It's so messy and... You know, unbearable. But a lazy child like me never wants to clean it up!!

So yea, back to my 'cleaning' session. So I get off my bed, preparing to spend 30 minutes of my precious time cleaning up my stuff. I get up, stretch for about a minute, and walk reluctantly towards my poor table calling out to me- "Help! I wanna see the light!!" I pick up my books and arrange them in my cupboard, whining all along. That takes about, say, ten minutes. Next up, my drawer- that stuffed up little box always gets on my nerves.

I hear a voice in my head- "Harini, you're supposed to eliminate some of the useless stuff from this drawer today." And I'm all like, "Aha." 

As I have described earlier, my drawer is home to pretty much everything I don't use a lot, except for my diary. I have some 4-5 of them arranged one above the other- the diaries I've been confiding in for about 5 years now- and they look pretty disorganised amidst the chaotic situation of the stuff around them. I pick up my pen stand, take out the keychains from far inside, and keep them on my bed, saying to myself, "Baby, it's cleaning time!"

The next problem is, "Where's the paper??" I really need some to check how many of my pens actually write, don't I? I again shift lazily to my cupboard, pick up some paper, and there I am, back at the side of my bed. So, I pick up the first pen, try writing with it. 

'This writes fine.'

Next pen.

'This does not write? But I have so many memories with it! I wrote my first poem with it! Sooo, I'll keep it.

Next pen. It writes. Another one, okay, it writes. Ahaaaa; this pen does not write. But....

I guess you can continue that. So this process goes on and on, and I end up keeping back 12 pens back in the pen stand. The twist here is, I started off with 12 pens. LOL.

Then comes my diaries. I wanna put a few of them inside the cupboard. I can't put in the one I'm using now, so lemme see what my other diaries hold.

So I pick up one diary, and start reading it. 

"New Year's Day," it reads, "I went out with my friends and met my favourite actor." Wow! I can't throw this inside!! 

Next diary. 

"100% in my exams!!" No way! This shall not leave my drawer!!

Again, this process continues.

Then comes my favourite part. My keychain and a pair of gloves that don't fit me now. I waste about fifteen minutes trying to fit my huge fingers into those tiny gloves. My dog comes in. "Ha ha ha, now I have an idea!!"

I start running behind the poor little canine who just came into my room cuz' he hadn't seen me for like an hour. No matter how much he tries running away from me, I don't give up. After a chase that lasted about 15 minutes, I succeed in irritating him with a glove on his head. He's waiting for me to get it off, and ends up becoming the model for another stupid post on FaceBook.

"Harini!! Are you done cleaning or not?"

"I'm done Ma!! Just... No, I'm done!!"

And I rush into my room, stuff everything back into my drawer, and go downstairs to watch a movie. 

My desk's all happy, but my poor drawer's all like, "I hate you."

Connection

Have you ever experienced a weird *connection* without which your life would've been incomplete? Yes? Then I'd call you lucky . You haven't? Hmm, just pray you do! Because without experiencing that feeling, you'd kind of die without living the reason you came into this world with. You must be thinking I'm talking about love. But no! This *connection* I'm talking about is something more than just love. It's called *trust*. And I'm actually the lucky kind I was talking about earlier. But I think what makes me luckier is the fact that I have experienced this *connection* with a being very different. A being that was canine. 

Just another day in my life, I was walking with my school bag, with a box of biscuits in my hand. No, I wasn't gonna eat them. They were for a very sweet friend. I called her Whitey- after all, she was a white coloured stray dog, the sweetest one I've ever befriended!!

Two minutes had passed before I found the friend I'd been searching for. She was sitting outside a house towards the end of the lane. Going towards her, I fairly realised that I was about to experience something more pleasing than all worldly pleasures. 

As everyday, I started feeding her. All of a sudden, a chihuahua came into the lane, pulling its master along. Oh God, it was barking as though it was about to tear something into pieces!! I wasn't really worried about the 'villain' suddenly entering the scene of two friends meeting, but it turned out that Whitey freaked out. I would expect any other dog to just run away if it was scared in such a situation, but Whitey turned out to be different. No, she didn't jump around in panic. She rushed behind my legs instead. She hid there.

I felt the connection. Within a fraction of a second, the entire scene had changed. Just a moment ago, I was feeding Whitey her daily treat. And now, her safety was my responsibility. If something happened to her, I would never be able to forgive myself.

But the twist in this tale is that nothing really happened. The barking dog was just pulled by its master away from the scene. I did feel a little funny. Because I had to protect my little canine friend, but at the same time, I didn't have to. 

So yea, the next second, we both returned to our daily life. I fed her some more biscuits. Then, understanding that we'd meet again in the evening, she just walked back into her daily life. And I walked back into mine.