I’m a 16 year old, and in less than a year, I’ll have to choose where I go to college. This is a realization that strikes me multiple times of week and sends me into a frenzied, fear-induced panic. Recently, I’ve stopped looking at it this way. I think I’ve been coming to terms with it, and now when I look at it from a more calm lens, it raises some questions for me. More specifically, questions about fate.

“If it’s meant to be, it will be”. I’m studying for my SATs when suddenly I think ‘hey, if I fail my SATs, maybe it was meant to be?’ Of course, nobody wants to fail their SATs, but it was just a thought. I probed deeper.  What if I make the wrong decision about where I want to go in college? The idea that flaws in my choices will permanently impact my future terrified me in a way that was so much deeper than the frenzied, fear-induced panic that was featured earlier. And so, I turned to fate. I’ve never believed in it. Until a few days ago, that is. When I kind of mulled over it far deeper than I ever had before. Because if fate exists, it would always be one step ahead of you. Maybe that erratic change of heart was meant to happen, and wasn’t just you making a choice. Essentially, this is comforting because it means there are no wrong choices- it was meant to happen. (I really hope I’m being easy to follow right now).

I began looking for examples in my life for fate, and found very few. One major choice that I’ve made out of almost nowhere (I shocked myself, frankly) was breaking up with my (ex) boyfriend while we were in a perfectly happy relationship. I don’t regret it. Broke my own heart, in some ways, but don’t regret it. Maybe that’s because it was meant to be? At the time I thought it was my own decision, and I still do find a different type of comfort in believing that your life is solely in your hands, but let’s face it- it’s more comfortable believing that fate is already one step of you, and that if it’s meant to be, it will be.

But I like making things difficult for myself (shocker). I like asking questions that shouldn’t be asked, starting weird conversations. I dread confrontation, but I also kind of seek it. And so, of course, I’m not going to let fate slide until I get a more palpable answer than that. I’m not going to believe in something just because it’s comfortable. I’d get nowhere. So, going back to examining examples from my own life, I found one more example that made the argument for fate a little more convincing. And that argument is me. I know right know you’re (wait, is anyone even reading this anyway?) probably shaking your head and asking why you’re following me. It all began when my mom was going off to college. She sought out the help of a fortune teller (fortune tellers were pretty common in Kerala at that time) to help her decide which college she should go to, of the ones in which she got accepted. Her fortune teller told her, go to the dentistry college instead of engineering. To he mother (my grandmother’s) displeasure, my mom went ahead and took engineering anyway, because she liked it far more. And where did she meet my dad? Engineering college. To add to this argument, she missed getting her seat in medicine by a few marks. Obviously, it wasn’t an ideal scenario at the time, but if she had went to a medicine college, would I be me? That’s one example of everything happening for a reason (her not getting into medicine) clashing with taking control of your decisions (her choosing engineering). And yet, this whole example seems to lean towards fate. Her “erratic” decision to choose engineering wound up working just fine, so I could argue that it was meant to be. note: I’m aware how stereotypically Indian it is to have ‘medicine’ and ‘engineering’ in the same sentence.

Yep, I’m confused about fate. More than that, I’m confused about going places and carving something out of my identity. But that all ties back into fate, and I still have no idea if I believe in it or not. I just think it’s kind of strange how I went from not believing in fate at all to being so confused about it.

Maybe it’s just a phase.

xo queertastic


The Chronicles of My Not-Crush

Hello, blog. It’s been a while. Sometimes, writing for literally nobody except myself can be such a relief. This week, I’ve been shying away from writing just because it’s been a heck of a week. It’s been ridiculously long, and I’m left feeling overwhelmed by things both preposterously large and outrageously small. Also, warning- this post is going to be utter garbage in terms of writing, and in terms of content. I’m only writing to hear my own voice after what’s been far too long.

Starting with the large- I have two months to prepare for my SATs, and my assessments, both of which I need to nail if I want to redeem myself. I’ll save these for another post, because right now I just cannot bring myself to talk about them.

Now, on to the small. Small problems to me are easy to talk about and actually quite fun to play with. As you would probably guess, my small problem involves a crush. More like *cough* a Not-Crush *cough*. Nobody likes crushes, they’re just annoying as hell. So when a crush first popped up to say hello earlier this week, I was ready to kill it with fire because NO. The last thing I need right now is a crush, ew. Crushes are just one of the many ways in which life decides to use your emotions to loud your judgement. So basically, there’s this person that I have found pretty attractive for a while, but like- not boyfriend attractive. just everything else attractive. I’ve never considered myself a shallow person who only likes people on raw attraction, but I don’t control my crushes, okay?!?!? I can’t help it. The crush is huge, here to stay, and probably not the best idea. Ugh, this morning he was in the same class as me and we were alone and I was being anti-social because I didn’t want to speak and mess things up. Then I hear my name, and inside I just go oh my gosh, what have I done now?  The voice, coming from the other side of the room, is, well, ugh. It’s the voice of my Not Crush. They’re asking what subjects I’m doing, and I fight back the urge to say “Biology, Chemistry, and English- but I really want to be doing you”. I’m hilarious, I know. We move on to talking about haircare, and morning routines, because curls are so hard to take care of. Stupid, mundane, boring, elementary and one dimensional. I guess those are the properties of a Not Crush.

// u n k n o w n //

to ask.

why did i even ask?

when i know these questions

do not yield for me.

when i know that there is refuge

in not knowing.

my newest discovery

the unexpected pleasure derived

from the notorious state of in between

knowing, not knowing,

and the bliss

of ambiguity.