What the hell, world?

So I was on Facebook the other day. One harmless little thing. This is roughly what my homepage looked like.

Someone Random uploaded a new picture.
Someone Random uploaded a new picture.
Someone random uploaded a new picture.
[All of these are picture of herself making duckfaces]
Someone Random liked Some Other Random Person's picture.
Some Prepubescent Chick is single.
Prepubescent Chick - Heartbroken :'( :'( <3 p="p">Some Jobless Creature - *insert crappy meaningless Lil Wayne lyrics.*
Some Other 13 year old - profanity profanity heartbreak angst angst profanity love love tag YOLO.

And these are all kids.

Which got me thinking. What the hell, world?

imperfect=beautiful.

It's impossible to please everyone.
But it's impossibly easy to piss off everyone.
I would know, being towards the end of a stereotypical teenage identity crisis myself.

You can't please everyone.
You just can't. No matter who you are, how hard you try.
There's always going to be the girl who is wearing the same dress as you at some reputable social occassion.
There's always going to be the chick who gives you iron eyes because her boyfriend likes talking to you a little too much.
There's always going to be the boy who ended up in the friendzone.
There's always going to be someone who made you end up in the friendzone.
There's going to be the pesky teacher, the pesky teacher's peskier pet.
There's going to be someone who hates you, maybe because you're a teacher's pet, said teacher is found pesky by said hater, hence you, being the pet, are also pesky.

Point is. You're not perfect. You never will be.
You can pretend to be. You can pretend to be happy, funny, caring, bubbling over with joy, creative, smart, everything. You can pretend.
While you're pretending, you can also ignore the pain you put yourself through, just because you try to make others happy, and not yourself.

Even if happyfunnycaringbubblingoverwithjoycreativesmart is your actual style, it won't help if you still let others run your life. You, whoever you are, however you are, you're beautiful, and you should know it.

You can make others happy. You can try. You'll be a wreck inside, but you can try.
Or you can hold up a middle finger to the world, and be your own badass.

You can have love, or you can have respect. The only time you'll have both is when you respect yourself enough to love who you are, and stop pretending to be someone else.

Teenage angsty post about peer pressure and The Plastics coming up.

One shade of grey

So, here we go again.
College. It's such a nice, fancy word.
Junior College. Not so fancy, but still miles better than plain old "school".
It should be a piece of cake. My college is close to my house; it's pretty reputed; and I get to ditch Physics and Chem for Psychology and German. I should be happy. Right? Right?

But all this is at the cost of English. It's anticlimactic (an anticlimax, according to someone of repute around college, is a "decent" from a climax. True story), because I expected it to be some sort of Utopia where I unleash my creative goddess and live happily ever after. But if it's so bad that I want to bunk English (earlier you wouldn't have believed this possible, trust me) then surely something's wrong?

Then again. Where something's wrong, there's also something right. Pune's biggest library is just next door, I have nicer subjects, a whole bunch of new people to meet, get to do subjects that I like, and get to perform at India's biggest inter-college fest. I should be happy. Right? Right?

Thinking over it, I am. It's a whole different experience - and while experiences in themselves can be bad, just the fact that you get to see some new side of life is nothing to complain about. I get more time to read, more time to write. So it's all good?

Eh well. It goes on. It goes on being good, it goes on being crappy.

In some senses, life is just like a book. Good stuff happens, bad stuff happens.

But that's the spice of life, isn't it? Who would remember a story without a villain?