The Spaghetti Principle

When I woke up that one morning, I was too dread-struck to think, so I crawled back into the covers and drifted off.

Then, the sun decided to box me in, and my eyes, my irritating eyes, refused to stay shut. There was only one thing left to do.

I woke up.

Today was a day which any and every schoolchild would detest — PTM day. Parent teacher meeting day. Parents and teachers have got to be the two scariest things in the world — except maybe dentists. Put ‘em together, and it equals, with all forms of mathematics in mind, a nightmare.

Thankfully I was too ‘sick’ to attend. In truth, I hate being talked about in the third person, having all the elements of my personality thrown out to my face, being microanalyzed for the smallest of actions. 

It’s like I’m a frog, all inner organs being thoroughly dissected and inspected, and maybe put back together in a better way, if it doesn’t break me first.

The thought alone sends shudders down my spine.

My mother returned at roughly 12:30 in the afternoon.

Now, what all happened in the PTM was confidential information, and for you to pry would be unwise.

I see your curious face.

Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.

Long story short, I got feedback that was…

1. More compliment than feedback.
2. Pretty okay.
3. Responsible for making me question my life choices.

Most of it slipped in one ear and out the other, except one major piece of Option 3 – ‘constructive’ criticism that echoed in my head hours after I heard it.

I haven’t been trying hard enough.

Now, I tend to be an optimist, but I would label what I just felt as something overly dramatic and slightly non-optimistic.

Self doubt. 

Now of course, that might have been a gross exaggeration, but in some ways, it was true.

I questioned what I had done lately that had meaning.

I already knew the answer.

Zip. Zilch. Nada.

But, as I will ‘humbly’ tell you, I wasn’t one to wallow in self pity.

What could I do? I wondered. What could I possibly do that could make a meaningful change in my identity and my society?

That was when it dawned upon me, or rather, my ingenious English Teacher of a mother. 

I could start a blog.

And that–That was how this whole thing came to be.

So I implore you to find a purpose of your own, for what can seem like a timepass might become a passion.

Try to make an impact on those around you, not for their sake, but yours.

Because that makes an impact on who you are too.

And yes, I am aware that I have gone from ‘PTM-hating-kid’ to ‘Random-philosopher-of-sorts’ in seconds, but that is the kind of mood swing you would probably expect from a teenager like me.

I’m ready to make a change now, and I hope you are too.

I hope you can make a change.

I hope you can find meaning.