Do you know I am going to leave you?

Today. Maybe, tomorrow. One day I am going to leave you and wouldn’t give you a clue. I’m burning all the letters that ever passed between us, one at a time. The letters you sent that summer you were abroad boning that older woman while writing about how much you missed me. The letters you sent from college while you were still figuring out if you’d fallen in love with me. The letters you sent, while you were trying hard to be a kid at heart, from home where you were catching your breath mostly. I tore up all our pictures in half. I flushed down all the little trinkets you called ‘twinkly valentine gifts’ and shed one solid tear to go along. I’m making fast and steady progress, don’t you think? The kids, well, expired. I wonder if you remember how many there were. One sultry Sunday evening we gave birth to four, lying on our bare backs, under the stars. We squeezed in one more a little later that night, and you declared, “let’s have a glorious bundle of five, not four,” because there was still space for one more in the imaginary crib and the imaginary car and we were young enough to accommodate, if only in imagination. It’s not like I had to drown them in the bathtub or anything. I don’t think of them and they don’t exist therefore. One way or another, the physical objects and the imaginary ones are shown the exit door. What would I do with the memories though? They stick on to me like skin. Last Sunday the skin on my fingers got burnt by accident on a hot plate. It pained like hell that day. Over the last one week I couldn’t feel anything on those burnt parts of my hand. But, today when I woke up I saw the skin on those fingers started peeling off painlessly. How do I make the same happen to my memories of you, and your letters, and your trinkets and the babies?
I’m positive I’ll figure out a way soon and the day I do that I would leave you without giving you a clue, just the way you did.

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Nowadays!

The following story and all the characters in the story are purely fictitious…

“Nowadays, every five minutes or so, I have to keep telling myself that it is not the end of the world.
Things seem to be going wrong almost EVERYDAY.
                      Like, three weeks back, I had the biggest fight ever with my boyfriend, on Valentine’s day, and as a result, we broke up after promising never to see each other again. And there is absolutely no hope of getting back together because long before the break-up, we reached a point where we couldn’t stand each other’s company for more than a minute. In fact the only thing that was holding us both together till then was the Valentine’s week’s excitement…yeah, weird as it may sound, we exchanged teddy bears, chocolates, and stuff, just like any other couple in love. He is smart but, I guess he is just incapable of love. I’m feeling better that I got out of that meaningless relationship anyway.
                       Just last week,  after a long series of disputes, my parents finally decided to separate forever. I tried desperately to settle things between them. They seemed just too immature to do anything about peacefully solving their silly problems and misunderstandings. Even if I’m their child, it is not like I can’t comprehend the problems faced by two working people in their married life. I had relationships too. They wouldn’t listen to anybody… not even my grandparents. Fine.
                       And two days back, I had the greatest shock of my life when I got a call from mum about my little sister…sis met with an accident, she said, when she was crossing the road. She got hit by a motorcycle. It was Saturday night and I was hanging out with my friends when mum called. I immediately drove down to the hospital, crying and sobbing all the way. I found her with mum and poor mum looked very disturbed. Sis was fine, after all, no major injuries. 
                       Yesterday, I finally found the time to go to the tattoo place that my friends have suggested. I parked my new car outside. It is silvery blue in colour and I still have to christen it. My dad bought it for my birthday last month. It was a surprise actually. My best birthday surprise ever! Well, I went in and got my favourite fairy tattoo on my wrist. My first tattoo! I came out in flying colours and hell! I didn’t notice the tiny Latin lettering on the wings of the fairy. I got it pierced into my skin without noticing the details. I rushed back in to know what it meant, hoping it was something nice…atleast something sensible. The woman translated it to me, with the dirtiest smirk on her face; she said, “It is ‘Hairy fairy’.” I came back out to the parking space, feeling horrible. And bloody hell! My car! Its left tail light cover came off and was lying on the ground. It got hit by something. But thank heavens, just some minor scratches in the rear…fine!
                         And, for the latest mishap, believe it or not, today morning, when I was on the phone with my best friend, wishing her ‘Happy Women’s Day’, the most disastrous thing ever happened to me- my first period. I didn’t want it to happen so soon. I mean, I’m just 13.”

Happy Women’s Day!!

…also, this story is a spinoff from the discussion with a friend on ‘teen freedom, how childhood is changing, and the transition from childhood to adulthood happening too soon in teenagers nowadays’