The Art of Getting Your Shit Together.

Oh, would you look that? I haven’t blogged since September. [clears throat] If you know me in person, you’d know why I hadn’t been blogging for so long. If you don’t well then, buckle up, kids.

With the school opening, and my ex-boyfriend (God, that phrase doesn’t sound as good as it seems.) trying to kick me out of his life, I tried my best to keep my emotions on a limit. But what does one do at point where they’re failing at school, life, and mostly just about everything? Read on, and you’ll know: The Art of Getting Your Shit Together.

No matter whatever grade I’m in, I always chill the fuck out during my first term and then start panicking towards the final term because my marks just don’t seem to add up enough to save me to the next level of hell. This year was obviously no different. The first term went by like a breeze, and shit got legit from the second term onwards. So after summer, (Which wasn’t particularly delightful as I thought it would be.) the reopening of school meant so much more than seeing teachers again, and facing exams again. It was getting back into the mundane, horrifying, robotic routine of schooling. September eventually dragged its way out of my life, rather slowly.

October seemed as though a happy month, obviously because of my birthday, and well, my birth should definitely be worth celebrating for. At least that’s what I think. Then again, life decides to drop the ultimate poop on my life, (Like always.) and it was India. We took the randomest possible vacation to India for about two weeks. Trust me on this though, best two weeks of my life.

November was okay, I guess. Bad stuff happened as always. There were days that just seemed to drag on. And my teachers found the greatest joy in flooding us upon with projects for the winter break. Oh well, December is here at least. Fun fact: December. Favorite month of the year. After October, of course. December mostly means holidays, windy weather, more excuses to have hot coffee, fabulous year end movie releases,  and my most fave; sweaters.

And so while, I told you part one of my reasons for not blogging about 3 months, here is part two: Boys. Boys are little shits, if you must know. They are like those really really good street food, which later give you the bad case of the tummy-aches. Summer began with me falling in head over heels with this boy, and obviously he left really really soon. Well, at least we lasted more than Kim Kardashian’s wedding.  Hey, I’m not one for bragging, but you should’ve seen that coming.

Alright, I’m not going to play it cool. [runs fingers dramatically through hair] It’s never easy when a guy shits all over your life, and then one fine day, decides that it’s okay to walk out. And so, 89% of my friends suggested that if I found a new guy to be infatuated with, I’d forget all about the bad street food. And well, you know me, I obviously didn’t do it. For it was my life, and when something shits all over it, you kind of have to pick up the shit (It was messy as fuck, just saying.) and move on. The bad street food stopped talking to me soon. And I stopped too.

It took me a good 4 months of break-up songs, long advices from friends and strangers, hours of Walking Dead re-runs, a tub of ice cream and a dozen of Oreos to get over this guy. Moving on doesn’t necessarily mean you’re completely over the existence of this person. You’ll still remember every single detail of their face. From the freckles to that scar they got from they were little. You’ll still remember their birthday, and wonder why the fuck they didn’t wish you on yours.

Nevertheless, I don’t hate him. I don’t hate anyone, I just couldn’t. Every single person that I meet, be it good or bad, teaches me something in life. When life gives you free lessons, you don’t say no. I’m so happy that I even got to know so many people, considering the fact that all I ever do is annoy everyone around me and crack really bad jokes.

At the end of all of this, one question still remains. How exactly does one get their shit together? I’ll tell you, grasshopper. One learns to get their shit together, only when one has failed and fallen many times into the arms of life. Sure, there is nothing greater than seeing you get that A+ on that exam you studied hard for, or getting recognized by that really popular girl at school. But if I didn’t get a D on that exam I didn’t study for, and if it weren’t for the popular girl rolling her eyes at me, I don’t really suppose I’d be here right now.


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