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Confession #45

Childhood crush.
Just 4 or 5 years back I had my career planned. I wanted to become a RJ. *giggles*
And also I was crushing on this guy called Anik Khan, he’s mainly a poet. But he used to come to this radio show Foor-Foor-Foorti and I was a diehard fan of his voice and attitude.
After like years I got to see his picture on facebook, and couldn’t match his voice to his face. I was like, really?!
He has a wife now and follows me on instagram.

Confession #46

I am really trying to adjust with nanu, but it’s not working for me. She’s planning to live here for one and a half year. If she does that I am gonna suffocate. She’s been here only couple of weeks and I am already out of my breath.
I want my room to be my room. It’s messy, let it be lady! Why is she always with complaining and complimenting and suggesting and advising things? I can’t tolerate this anymore. Really.
She was talking on phone a while ago with my khalamoni from abroad. She was like- They don’t take care of me like your children did. I miss how Diya used to give me back rub at night…Blah blah…Ramisa and ifty stay up late and they don’t study a thing…blah blah blah. Can you believe her? She’s staying as a guest and complaining like a pro. I am deprived of sleep for the sake of her heat problem, sacrificed our room, sacrificed this writing confessions because she needs pin drop silence in the room when she sleeps. What else does she want? A back rub? Please!?
I don’t like when someone controls me unless I want to be controlled.It’s been a nightmare let me tell you, this two weeks living with her under the same roof. She’s craving for respect and extra care which I am indifferent to. I know, old is the age when you need these things. But there are more ways to show that you crave for your grand-daughter’s attention you know, no point in complaining behind her back. I know saying all these stuffs makes me a bad grand-daughter, then be it.
Sometimes I even wonder, I might understand how it feels to be old when I’d get old. When I’d get all the wrinkles in my face and stop having period. When I’d be at my 60s or 70s. When my grand-daughter would displease me. I might understand those feelings by then. Not now. All I want at this moment is the distance from her, some privacy and my room back.
But there’s always this phobia I have, about getting old. I want to live up to the stage where no wrinkles could touch me. Where I’d be a completely free spirit to jump and play immature. Where there’d be adventures, cute clothes to wear, randomly dance without anyone watching and remember all the lyrics to my favorite songs, where there’d be no regrets, just moments to live. I want to live up to the stage where I am young and beautiful in my own way. Just to that stage where my hair hasn’t turned gray yet. Where I still get this skin the way it is, the rough curls and the dazzles in my eyes.
But the world is not a wish granting factory, I am getting old year by year. And I seriously am scared of it. If my face starts to wrinkle and my hair turns to gray I’d suicide like Marilyn Monroe. Seriously. That’d be the only out. 
My inner goddess comforts me now; “Relax! You’re just 18!”


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