Evolution

You know I just realised I am going to be 20! I did so when I overheard my mum reasoning with my brother about how she will stop reading the SMSes in his phone when he turns 20 like I am gonna be doing soon. At which point, all I could obsess over was the big 2-Oh. A normal person would first pick up on the hint that your mum has been reading your SMSes thus far, which is, to be put simply, CATASTROPHIC. But I am not ready to face such a revelation, and hence I shall blissfully move on to the lesser of the two evils: @)!!.. Ok numbers cannot be put in capitals. Stupid Technology. Anyway, here it is: 20!!

The end of youth, and the start of adulthood. When I am required to put an end to my unreasonable arguments, insensible rebellion and general dislike for everything normal - to concentrate on becoming an intelligent, composed and gentle lady. OK fine, this post is a year and half early. Technically, I should only rant about this when I am going to turn 21. But I have never been big on milestones. I prefer the almost-milestones. Like 15 and 20. Such nice and round numbers. Numbers divisible by 5 are always the best. The only significance 21 holds is that I can finally, legally watch Rated movies. All of them. But heck that anyway. I am going to try sneaking into one next week. Hoot!

So when all these headachey thoughts were swirling about in the gray matter of my brain, the white matter decided to usher in memories of all those bygone years of my completely undramatic life. However, for the sole reason that I want to make it so, I shall have you known that the change in my personality has been quite dramatic. I swear, if you love me now, you would have hated my 10 year old self. And if you hate me now, you would have wanted me dead back then.

I used to be the most attention-seeking, persnickety little prick! I used to make this guy in my class cry every other day. Literally. And he was one of my close friends. I still have no idea why he chose to stick with me through all that. Angel. Somehow, I toned down my attention-seeking behaviour once I became a teenager. All that rubbish about being self-conscious and insecure caught up with me. But now, rather peculiarly (but thankfully!), I don't really care about my existence anymore. Personal insecurities will always remain, but I just feel that there are better things to focus on. But I am still very fussy, especially when it comes to food and hygiene, and sometimes, I act/feel elitist too. Confessions.

Also, I used to kick people from under the table when I got annoyed with them. ALL the time. Blame it on growing up with 3 boys, whose knowledge of conflict-resolution ceased at wrestling and screaming. I still have this habit -I slap people close to me when I get annoyed with them. Somewhat. But hey at least, I have narrowed the sphere, and it's becoming a rare occurrence too. I feel quite accomplished about that. For all you know, soon I will be campaigning for a moratorium on all kind of physical violence. My face still remains highly expressive though. Every slight change in my mood or feeling is always reflected on my face. Bollocks.

Then I remember when I was 5 or 6, I tried to run away from home because my dad gave my toy bike to my brother. I had outgrown it by then, but I was a ridiculously possessive hoarder. As such, I felt so wronged that I disowned them all and walked out. But I sneaked back in after sitting it out at the garden for an hour, because I couldn't reach the latch on the gate. Hence, my grand plan to run away flopped spectacularly. Since then, I have stuck to reading books about such schemes and adventures. I am still a hoarder though, possessive or not depends. Anyone who has seen my wardrobe and bookshelf can attest to this.

Gosh. I shall end the memory monstrosity here, simply because I am lazy to carry on, and I don't want you to hate me further. I must have been some child monster. I have no idea how a human evolved from that creature. And that human is going to be 20 years old soon. Omg. I hate the ominous ring to it. I hate how I inauspiciously sneezed when I typed that.

I would like to believe that the sneeze is due to my frail upper respiratory tract, which has a mental age of 180. And the afternoon rain. Today was the first time in 2 years that I got utterly caught in a torrential downpour. I must have looked like some maniac on the roads, when I trudged on with a happy smile. But damn I loved it! Except for the part when I arrived at CDC completely drenched and panting, like one of those crazy extra shits that gets to be the first victim of the villain in Indian movies. Sigh. I am so uncool. I should make that one of my big two-oh goals: Get cooler soldier! Ho ho!

Unstated assumption of this post: The present self is awesome. Almost.