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He Doesn't Know He Became My Poetry

General Support / by Ayurabloom77

Sunday

...See more There are some eyes you look at. And then there are eyes you surrender your attention to. His are the second kind. I don't know what he carries in them, but whenever I look at him, it feels like standing before an endless ocean knowing I could spend forever getting lost in it. If I'm going to lose myself somewhere, let it be in his eyes. They have something I cannot name. Something quiet, something that pulls without asking. I could look at them and forget what I was about to say, forget what I was worried about, forget for a moment that there is a whole world outside of him. His eyes don't feel like an ocean. They feel like an entire universe. And his smile... His smile is another kind of magic. It arrives so effortlessly, and suddenly everything around him seems less important. It feels like the first ray of sunlight finding its way through curtains after a long night. I could be carrying a hundred thoughts in my head, and then he smiles— and somehow, silence. For those few seconds, nothing else seems worthy of my attention. His smile lights up even the darkest skies in my world, like moonlight finding its way through the night. And his voice... God, his voice. Deep, steady, confident. It doesn't simply sound beautiful to me; it feels like something my body recognizes. Like every atom in me becomes suddenly awake when I hear it. There are voices you hear. And then there are voices you feel. His is the latter. I have spent my entire life meeting people and feeling nothing remotely like this. No man ever made me stop and wonder why simply looking at him could make my entire world feel different. Until him. And maybe I lost it there... Because somewhere between his smile, his eyes, his voice, and all those tiny details I shouldn't have memorized— my heart quietly gave up fighting. I know he isn't a god. I know he is human. He has flaws. He has choices I may never agree with. He may not even be the person I should want. But isn't that what makes this feeling so strange? I don't worship perfection. I simply look at him through eyes that have fallen too far. And when you look at someone that way, even their smallest details begin to feel sacred. His smile becomes sunrise. His eyes become an ocean. His voice becomes a song. His face becomes a painting. And his existence becomes poetry. Maybe he will never know. Maybe he will never understand why I look at him the way I do. Maybe, to him, he is simply himself. But to me... for reasons I cannot explain, he is the kind of beautiful that makes ordinary words feel insufficient. I won't call this love. Love is a strong word, and I don't know him deeply enough to give what I feel such a sacred name. Maybe it's fascination. Maybe it's attachment. Maybe it's the kind of feeling that exists somewhere between admiration and longing. But whatever it is, I know one thing— I have never felt this way about anyone before. He came into my life unexpectedly, and somehow, without even trying, he reminded me that my heart was still capable of feeling. His presence made me realize that somewhere beneath all the heaviness, all the days when I thought I had forgotten how to feel— there was still a part of me capable of wonder. And perhaps that's the most beautiful thing he gave me without ever knowing he gave it. The sad part? He doesn't even know that somewhere in this world, someone is looking at him with this much admiration, carrying his smile like sunlight and his voice like a song she never wants to forget.

When Death Knocks Upon My Door

Reading & Writing / by Ayurabloom77

Sunday

...See more When death comes to my door, it will only find me dead. Not the kind of death that silences a heartbeat, but the quieter one the one that happens while your pulse still insists on proving you're alive. It will find a body that learned how to breathe without ever feeling the air, eyes that forgot what it meant to shine, and a soul that has been attending its own funeral for years. It will wonder why my hands are so cold despite all the summers I survived. It will search my chest for a heart, only to find the ruins of one that kept forgiving until there was nothing left to forgive. It will ask where my laughter went, and the walls will answer before I can they have heard its echo far more often than I have. It will not have to introduce itself. I've known death for a long time. Not the one wrapped in black, carrying an end, but the one that visits in broad daylight, sits beside you in crowded rooms, and whispers that you are disappearing while everyone keeps calling your name. The kind that steals you piece by piece, so gently that no one notices you're becoming a ghost before you've even left. Death will open every room inside me and find them abandoned. The room where hope once lived will be covered in dust. The room where love used to bloom will smell of dried flowers and unanswered prayers. The room where I kept my childhood will be empty, except for the sound of a little version of me asking questions no one ever stayed long enough to answer. It will ask me what happened. I won't know where to begin. Should I tell it about the nights that stretched so long they convinced me the sun had forgotten my address? About the words I swallowed because I feared they would become burdens in someone else's hands? About the countless times I smiled so no one would have to witness another quiet collapse? Or should I tell it how exhausting it is to survive when survival is mistaken for living? People think death arrives in a single moment. They've never watched a person disappear one disappointment at a time. One goodbye at a time. One silence at a time. One "I'm okay" at a time. If they had, they would know that some funerals happen long before the coffin is built. By the time death finally reaches my doorstep, it will realize there is nothing left for it to steal. The dreams have already stopped knocking. The faith has already packed its bags. The innocence has long forgotten the way home. Even my tears grew tired of falling and chose to stay inside me, turning into oceans no one will ever see. Death will stand there, almost apologetic. Not because it came too soon— but because it came too late. It will find someone who has already mourned every version of themselves they were supposed to become. Someone who has carried so many invisible endings that one final ending feels almost merciful. And perhaps, before I leave with it, I will look back at the life I wore like borrowed clothes and whisper, "I died so many times trying to stay alive that this... this is only the first death anyone else will notice."

And that's how Anxious mind works.

General Support / by Ayurabloom77

July 2nd

...See more Part 3 G had never been an early morning person. That wasn't an opinion. It was an established fact. If sleeping were an Olympic sport, she would've returned home draped in enough gold medals to cause permanent neck pain. Fourteen hours of sleep? Comfortable. Fifteen? Even better. Waking up before eight in the morning had always sounded like one of those strange hobbies people developed after discovering productivity videos online. She simply wasn't one of them. Yet college had somehow accomplished what years of alarms, family lectures, and good intentions never could. It made her wake up early. Not because she'd suddenly become disciplined. Life wasn't a motivational video. She just disliked staying at her uncle's house. College happened to be far from there, and leaving early always felt easier than remaining inside a place that never quite felt like home. Funny how people often confused escaping with responsibility. From the outside, both looked surprisingly similar. Every morning she woke up much earlier than she'd ever willingly choose, got ready in silence, left the house, and reached college long before anyone else. She never reached for her phone. There wasn't anything waiting for her there. No endless scrolling. No music. No dramatic social media updates pretending everyone else's lives were perfectly organized. Instead, she sat in the small park inside the campus. Quietly. Watching. The security guards unlocking buildings one after another. The gardeners watering plants that would probably wilt again by noon. Students slowly drifting through the gates. Some arrived laughing in groups. Some walked while frantically revising notes. Some looked as though they had already given up on the day before it had properly begun. She understood that last group more than she'd like to admit. Mostly, though... She waited. For Kumud. A girl who lived considerably closer to college than G did... ...and still managed to arrive late almost every single day. It was honestly impressive. Punctuality had clearly offended Kumud on a deeply personal level. Eventually, she appeared exactly as expected, strolling toward the park with the relaxed confidence of someone who had never once feared being late. "You're always early." G looked up. "It's not my fault. College is far from where I'm staying." Kumud narrowed her eyes. "So the girl who used to sleep for fourteen or fifteen hours is waking up early now?" G shrugged. "I don't really have a choice." "That's terrifying." "It is." Neither of them said anything for a moment. The morning breeze was surprisingly pleasant. A rare miracle before the afternoon sun turned the entire campus into a large outdoor oven. After sitting there for a while, G checked the time. "We should go inside." Kumud stared at her. "We still have half an hour." "I know." "So why are you going already?" "Because I'd rather sit inside than stand out here." Kumud sighed with theatrical disappointment. "You seriously enter the examination hall thirty minutes early every single time." "It's too hot out here." G glanced toward the entrance. Students had started gathering near the building. "And once everyone starts coming..." She looked back at Kumud. "...it gets even worse." Crowds had always been exhausting. Not because people were doing anything wrong. There were simply... Too many of them. Too many voices. Too much movement. Sometimes being alone felt far less lonely than standing in the middle of a crowd. Kumud shook her head. "So you'd rather voluntarily sit in an empty classroom?" "Absolutely." "I will never understand you." "You don't have to." Kumud laughed. "You're impossible." "So I've been told." A little more conversation followed. A little more complaining about exams. Some complaints were traditions rather than genuine concerns. Students discussed exams before every paper regardless of whether they had studied. It was almost ceremonial. Eventually, they stood up. As always, they walked together until the corridor split into two directions. Different classrooms. Different seating arrangements. Same routine. Kumud disappeared into hers. G walked into her own. The room was almost empty. Of course it was. She had once again arrived ridiculously early. Only the invigilator was inside. G quietly walked to her usual seat and placed her bag beside the desk before sitting down. The classroom felt strangely peaceful before everyone arrived. The ceiling fans rotated lazily overhead. Morning sunlight slipped through the windows and stretched across the empty benches. For a few brief minutes... The room belonged to silence. It never lasted. It rarely did. Here's the next part, keeping the same style, slower pacing, third-person narration, and sarcastic commentary while preserving your original events. Students gradually filled the classroom. Conversations replaced silence. Chairs scraped against the floor. Bags landed on desks with unnecessary force, as though that somehow improved exam performance. G glanced at the seating arrangement. Two students per bench. Finally. Someone at the university had remembered students possessed elbows. It was a surprisingly thoughtful decision. Low standards made small victories feel monumental. The invigilator began distributing question papers. A strange silence settled over the room. Not peaceful silence. Exam silence. The kind filled with nervous page-turning, silent prayers, and students suddenly remembering chapters they definitely should've revised. G turned the first page. She blinked. Then blinked again. The paper was... Easy. Suspiciously easy. Her eyes scanned the questions once more just to make sure the university hadn't accidentally handed them the wrong subject. No. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. The questions required something many students often overlooked. Common sense. For the first time during these examinations, G wasn't mentally preparing her own funeral halfway through reading Question One. How refreshing. She picked up her pen and began writing. The seat beside her remained empty. As expected. She already knew whose seat it was. Late. Again. Some traditions survived longer than civilizations. Several minutes passed before the classroom door opened. Right on schedule. Late schedule. He walked in, Never apologized to the invigilator, and slipped into the empty seat beside her. No unnecessary movements. No dramatic sigh. The moment he sat down, he opened the answer booklet and started writing. Fast. Surprisingly fast. G barely spared him a glance. She had no intention of becoming today's entertainment. The less conversation... The better. Or so she believed. Several more minutes passed. She reached the final question. Finished it. Read through her answers once. Done. She placed her pen down. Finishing an exam early was a pleasant feeling. Unfortunately... The person sitting beside her had not finished. His pen continued moving across the page. Without warning— "What did you write for this one?" G instinctively turned toward him. He wasn't looking at her. His eyes never left the answer sheet. His hand never stopped writing. His pen moved across the paper with practiced ease while, somehow, he managed to ask questions in between. She answered. He nodded. Still writing. Still not looking up. A minute later— He started talking while filling his OMR sheet. How? She couldn't even think properly if someone whispered near her during an exam. This boy, meanwhile, appeared perfectly capable of writing an entire university paper while casually holding a conversation. Either his brain had excellent multitasking abilities... Or silence genuinely made him uncomfortable. Possibly both. Another question followed. Then another. The conversation continued in fragments. Not because either of them stopped writing. Only because he never stopped. Eventually, he glanced not at her but at her answer sheet for barely a second. Then asked, "Was the paper easy because you studied... or because of common sense?" "Common sense." He nodded once. "As I thought." G returned her attention to her answer booklet even though there was nothing left to write. A few seconds later he laughed quietly. "Zero interest in talking huh?" She looked at him. Finally. Just for a moment. He was smiling. Still writing. Still not making much eye contact. She smiled faintly. He wasn't wrong. She had absolutely no intention of encouraging another conversation. Unfortunately... Intentions had very little authority over reality. Unfortunately... Intentions had very little authority over reality. His pen continued moving across the page. The conversation, apparently, had no plans of ending either. "What do you like?" G shocked What a sudden question G looked at him before answering. "Many things." "Like what?" "Sleeping." A laugh escaped him almost immediately. "I think all girls like sleeping. My sisters sleep all day too." G simply nodded. That sounded like useful information for absolutely no one. His answer sheet, however, seemed to find it fascinating enough to deserve another line because his pen never stopped moving. Honestly... She was beginning to find this mildly disturbing. Most people either talked... Or wrote. He had somehow decided both could happen simultaneously. And quite efficiently. "So... where do you live now?" She answered without much thought. "I used to live there. Not anymore." His hand paused for exactly one second. The first pause she'd seen since he'd entered the classroom. He looked genuinely surprised. "I live there too." "Oh." That seemed to excite him far more than it excited her. Another question arrived before the previous answer had properly settled. "Do you know this area?" "Yes." "What about this one?" "Yes." "This road?" "Yes." Every answer was short. Every question was immediate. It was less like a conversation and more like someone rapidly checking boxes on an invisible questionnaire. She found herself looking at him whenever she replied. It was instinct. People usually looked at the person they were speaking to. He, however... Barely looked back. Most of the time his eyes remained fixed on the answer sheet. Occasionally they shifted toward the question paper. Then back again. As if maintaining eye contact might somehow interrupt his train of thought. Which was strange. Because talking clearly didn't. His concentration was... Confusing. Impressive. And, if she were being completely honest... A little fascinating He rarely looked at her while they talked. His attention almost always stayed on his answer sheet. But By the time he'd finished his paper, he no longer had to divide his attention between writing and talking. Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, he'd simply rest the side of his face against his palm and look at her. Not always. Just every now and then. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. He never seemed affected by it. Never looked away awkwardly. Never appeared to think twice about holding her gaze. G, unfortunately, couldn't say the same. The moment their eyes met, her mind quietly abandoned its responsibilities. Thoughts vanished halfway through forming. Words dissolved before they reached her tongue but she managed to response. For one impossibly brief second, she forgot how to be a functioning human being. Then he'd look away as casually as he'd looked at her in the first place... And she'd have to pretend nothing had happened. Honestly... It was far easier when he kept looking at his answer sheet. But how can he talk between writting exams. She would've forgotten her own name if someone interrupted her every thirty seconds during an exam. He, meanwhile, continued filling circles after circles while carrying on an entirely unrelated conversation. Either years of practice had led to this... Or his brain simply operated under different rules. Then came another question. "Tea or coffee?" "I don't drink either." This time he actually looked up. For barely a second. "Nothing?" "Nothing." He laughed again. At this point G was fairly convinced laughing was simply part of his breathing pattern. "You have only one friend, right?" "Yes." "The one you were walking with on the first exam?" "Yes." "And yesterday you were standing with Sejal." "Yes." The answer escaped before she processed the question. Then she paused. Wait. He remembered that? Interesting. He hardly looked at her while they spoke. Yet somehow he'd noticed who she'd been standing with yesterday. Human memory was strange. It happily forgot important things. But remembered details nobody expected it to. He leaned back slightly, finally placing his pen down for what seemed like the first time in history. "I heard your sejal has a very famous... interesting stories" G smiled immediately. "So everyone knows?" "I don't even come to college regularly, and someone still told me." She laughed softly. Rumours truly travelled faster than attendance. Some students struggled to find classrooms. Rumours, on the other hand, never seemed to have trouble finding people. "You actually come to college regularly?" "Yes." "Oh." He looked genuinely surprised. That wasn't insulting. Just... unexpected. "From second year, I'll start coming too." She nodded. "We'll see," she thought. College had introduced her to many optimistic promises. Attendance usually defeated most of them within a month. "I was supposed to be in Section D as well." "Oh." "But I wasn't." "Oh." A silence settled between them. G almost relaxed. Almost. It lasted approximately three seconds. It lasted approximately three seconds. "You probably don't even use social media." "I don't." He smiled as though he'd successfully solved a mystery. "Breakup?" "No." "Then why?" "My account got banned. I made another one, but eventually deleted it." "Why?" "I got bored." He laughed again. Of course he did. "I guess there's no motivation for you to use it." "Yes." There it was again. Another tiny pause. Not awkward. Just... unexpected. Most conversations eventually ran out of fuel. This one kept discovering hidden reserves. He tapped his pen lightly against the desk before looking back at his answer sheet. "If you ever activate it again, tell me." G looked at him. Actually looked at him. Not because the question was difficult. Because the request felt oddly casual. "What would I even do after activating it?" His smile widened. "This is a common sense exam." She raised an eyebrow. "You clearly have enough common sense to figure that out." She couldn't help the tiny smile that appeared. Very small. Barely noticeable. He had an answer for everything. Or perhaps he simply enjoyed pretending he did. She didn't reply. There wasn't much to say. He seemed perfectly comfortable filling the silence himself. "Fine," he said with a laugh. "Just tell me if you ever activate it." She only smiled politely. Neither a yes. Nor a no. Some answers were deliberately left unfinished. Not because they were mysterious. Simply because they didn't require completion. Thankfully, salvation arrived. Kumud appeared outside the classroom just as the invigilator announced, "Time's over." Pens stopped. Answer booklets closed. An entire room collectively exhaled. Funny. Students always entered examination halls carrying confidence. They left carrying relief. G packed her bag. Beside her, he continued talking while slipping his papers together. Apparently the exam had ended. His conversations hadn't. She listened. Mostly because interrupting someone mid-sentence felt unnecessarily rude. Besides... She had slowly accepted an important fact over the last few exams. If he wanted to talk... He would. Whether she contributed three words or thirty made surprisingly little difference. They walked toward the classroom door with the rest of the students. A crowd had already gathered near the exit. Everyone suddenly wanted to leave at exactly the same moment. Human beings were fascinating. Give them an entire three-hour exam to walk out whenever they pleased... And they'd still choose the exact same thirty seconds. He looked at the crowd, then stepped slightly to one side. The students behind him paused. He glanced toward G and gestures to go first Then she quietly walked past him. Outside, Kumud was already waiting. The moment G reached her, they started walking. Kumud looked at her with obvious curiosity. "Why do you keep talking to him?" G sighed. "I don't." She adjusted the strap of her bag. "He starts talking." "So I have to answer." Which, in G's opinion, was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Ignoring someone who was politely speaking to you required far more confidence than she possessed. They discussed the paper while walking toward the place where Kumud had left her bag. The conversation naturally drifted from questions and answers to everything except the actual exam. As most post-exam conversations did. Then, almost casually, G mentioned, "He asked for my social media" Kumud stopped walking for half a second. Then looked at her with entirely too much excitement. "Take mine and talk to him instead." "No." "Why not?" "I'm not that free." "You could." "I don't want to." "I have no interest." Kumud stared at her. G remained completely serious. Some people collected conversations. G collected peace and quiet. Unfortunately... Life seemed determined to keep her collection incomplete. The two of them continued walking through the corridor while Kumud unsuccessfully tried to convince G that talking to him wouldn't be the end of the world. "It wouldn't hurt to reply, you know." "I do reply." "You know what I mean." "Yes." "So?" "So... no." Kumud sighed dramatically. "You are unbelievably stubborn." "I've heard that before." "You'll regret it." "I doubt it." As she continued listing every reason she had absolutely no intention of activating ***... The reason quietly walked toward them from the opposite direction. G looked up. He was already looking at her. It was as if he had quietly figured out where she would appear in his line of sight and simply waited for it. A small smile rested on his face. Not loud. Not obvious. Just constant in a way that didn’t need permission to exist. That boy always smiled even when nothing in particular was happening as though the world itself was mildly amusing to him. And this time… He didn’t look away. Not even after their eyes met. He just kept looking. Calm. Unbothered. Like eye contact wasn’t something that ended, only something that continued until someone else decided to break it. G, unfortunately, was not built for this level of confidence Their eyes met. Just for a second. No dramatic music. No slow motion. Real life rarely entertained such clichés. He simply looked at her. She looked back. Then they crossed paths like any other students walking through a college corridor. He continued ahead. So did she. Almost instantly, G stopped talking. As though her brain had suddenly remembered one very important detail. People could hear. Kumud picked up her bag. The topic changed. Soon they were sitting in the canteen. The exam, naturally, was forgotten within minutes. Because Kumud had returned to discussing the subject she considered vastly more important than university papers. Her crush. Of course. Some people analyzed question papers after exams. Kumud analyzed eye contact. With remarkable dedication. G listened with the occasional nod, adding a comment every now and then. Mostly because Kumud clearly didn't require a second speaker. Just an audience. Eventually the afternoon slipped away. They said goodbye. G left for home. The house greeted her with the same silence it always had. Though "greeted" felt like an overly generous word. A greeting usually implied warmth. This house specialized in neither warmth nor conversation. Her aunt was asleep. The television was off. The rooms were quiet in the way only unfamiliar houses could be. Not peaceful. Just... silent. G quietly ate lunch before walking to her room. She closed the door behind her and lay down on the bed. The ceiling looked exactly the same as it had yesterday. Predictable. Reliable. Unlike people. She stared at it for a while. The silence felt different now. At college, one person somehow possessed enough words for three people. Here... Sometimes it felt like nobody had enough for even one. Funny how life enjoyed extremes. She closed her eyes. She had spent nearly the entire exam trying not to encourage the conversation. Keeping her answers short. Never asking questions back. Never trying to continue the discussion. Yet somehow... Her mind refused to cooperate. It replayed everything anyway. The questions. The laughter. The way every topic seemed completely unrelated to the previous one. Tea. Coffee. Social media. Roads. Friends. Common sense. His sisters. None of it connected. Somehow... All of it did. Then there was the strange part. He barely looked at her while talking. Most of the conversation had happened with his eyes fixed on his answer sheet. His pen never seemed to stop moving. Even now she couldn't understand it. If someone spoke to her during an exam, she'd lose her entire train of thought. She'd forget what she was writing. Forget what the question even asked. This boy... Talked. Listened. Laughed. Asked questions. Remembered random details. And still managed to write page after page without missing a beat. It didn't make sense. Maybe that was what she'd been thinking about all evening. Not the questions. Not even the conversation itself. But how someone could be so completely focused... And so completely distracted... At exactly the same time. Ridiculous. Annoying. Entirely unnecessary. Which, unfortunately, explained why it was the only thing her mind refused to stop replaying before sleep finally claimed the argument. PS: From the narrator Fun fact: G entered an exam hall to write a paper. Funner fact: she also walked out with a mildly corrupted peace of mind and absolutely no explanation for it. Now before anyone starts overthinking this into a “destiny” situation...no. It was not destiny. It was not fate. It was not some poetic universe doing background editing. It was just a boy who thinks writing an exam and holding a conversation are both equally optional side quests. And G, unfortunately, is the kind of person who replies when spoken to. Tragic habit. Needs improvement. He wrote answers. He asked questions. He smiled like he had nowhere else to be in life. And somehow somehow managed to make “Tea or coffee?” feel like a personality test. It wasn’t deep. It wasn’t meaningful. It was literally just an exam hall conversation with extra confusion sprinkled on top. But now she’s lying there, replaying it like it was some important chapter in a romance novel she didn’t agree to star in. It wasn’t. It was just her brain refusing to shut up. And him refusing to stop talking. A truly unfortunate combination. Especially for someone who claims she likes peace. Clearly, peace didn’t apply here. Or around him. Mostly around him.

And that's how the first conversation started....

General Support / by Ayurabloom77

June 26th

...See more The Worst Exam Ever Created I hate General Knowledge. I don't mean I struggle with it. I mean I genuinely hate it. Business? Fine Accounting? Ehh. General Knowledge? A personal attack. The entire ride to college, I was mentally preparing for failure. Not dramatic failure. Just normal failure. The kind where you stare at a question and wonder if you've somehow forgotten how to read. Maybe the exam would get cancelled. Maybe the university would suddenly realize that forcing students to answer one hundred random questions was cruel and unusual punishment. Maybe I'd become a billionaire before reaching campus. Unfortunately, none of those things happened. By the time I reached the college, the summer heat had already ruined my mood. The campus was crowded. Students stood in groups revising notes. Some looked confident. Some looked terrified. Some were pretending not to be terrified. I walked straight toward the examination hall. No last-minute revision. No discussion. No motivation. Whatever happened was between me and God now. By the time I reached the examination hall, I was already annoyed. The kind of annoyed where people breathing too loudly could start a fight. I checked my roll number. 94. Same hall. Same seat. Same suffering. Inside, the seating arrangement was somehow worse than usual. Three students on one bench. Because apparently comfort was not included in the examination budget. A random boy was already sitting on my left. I sat in the middle. The seat on my right was empty. Good. Perfect. One less person to deal with. The bell rang. Question papers were distributed. And the moment I opened mine, I knew I was finished. One hundred questions. One hundred. Who needs one hundred questions? Was the university conducting an exam or an interrogation? I stared at Question 1. Question 1 stared back. Neither of us knew what was happening. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. The empty seat beside me remained empty. Not surprising. I already knew who it belonged to. The boy who was always late. Last semester I'd seen him with a different seat partner. This semester, apparently, I was the lucky winner. The classroom door opened. I looked up automatically. There he was. Late. Again. At this point I would've been more shocked if he had arrived on time. The invigilator checked his details and pointed toward the empty seat beside me. He walked over carrying absolutely none of the panic a late student should have. If I arrived this late, I'd simply disappear and start a new life somewhere else. He sat down. Pulled out a pen. Looked at the question paper. "Do we have to solve all 100 questions?" I blinked. That was his first sentence. Not hello. Not good morning. Not excuse me. "Do we have to do all 100?" "Hmm." "All of them?" "Hmm." He looked horrified but not much. For the first time that day, I almost smiled. Almost. Then he started writing. For about five minutes. After that, he apparently decided the exam was less interesting than talking. "What do you think about the paper?" "It's fine." A complete lie. The paper was a crime against humanity. "It's fine?" he asked. "Yeah." "My exam is going terribly." "Okay." He laughed. Why? Nothing funny had happened. The exam was a tragedy. "Do you not talk to boys?" I looked up from my paper. "What?" "You seem really quiet." I shrugged. "I don't talk much to anyone." He just nodded A few minutes later he pointed at a question. "Can you tell me this one?" I looked. "No idea." Another question. "No idea." He asked me a question again. I looked up, frustrated. "You are asking me this like I know everything about this exam." He just laughed. What the? Eventually he reached a question about a badminton player. "Tell me this one." I barely glanced at it. "Hockey, maybe?" He looked at me. Then at the paper. Then back at me. The boy literally folded his hands. "It already says badminton player." I looked again. It did. Unfortunately. "Please use some common sense." I wanted to throw my pen at him. Instead, I continued pretending I knew what I was doing. Then came more questions. Not exam questions. Personal questions. "What's your name?" I told him. For a second he just stared. Then he laughed. Actually laughed. "What?" "Our names sound almost the same." I looked at him blankly. "We only know each other's names because of the roll number list." "Oh." He nodded. Then laughed again anyway. For reasons that remained completely unknown to me. "Where are you from?" I told him. He immediately narrowed his eyes. "You're lying." "I'm not." "No way." "I literally am." He looked genuinely offended. "I'm from there too." That somehow unlocked an entirely new conversation. "What area?" I told him. "Do you know this place?" "Yeah." "What about this one?" "Yes." "This market?" "Yes." "This road?" "Yes." For the next few minutes he continued asking increasingly specific questions as if he was conducting a residency verification process. Apparently my hometown had become the most interesting topic in the examination hall. At some point, the exam stopped feeling like an exam. Not because the questions got easier. Because the boy beside me had apparently decided this was the perfect time to conduct an interview. It was honestly impressive. A special talent. A dangerous talent. The ability to never run out of things to say. Meanwhile I was running out of patience. And answers. And reasons to stay awake. A few minutes later he suddenly sat up straighter. "You can ask me anything." "Why would I do that?" "I'm from science but I have full knowledge about these things." ".ohhh" The confidence with which he said it suggested he personally wrote the General Knowledge syllabus. Unfortunately, judging by his earlier panic over the hundred questions, I wasn't completely convinced. Still, he looked very proud of himself and he was actually answering every question. So I let him have the moment. Then came another question. And another. And another. I don't remember the exact order. I only remember the feeling. Every time I thought the conversation was over, it somehow continued. Like a television show with too many seasons. A few minutes later he asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?" "No." "Oh." He looked around the classroom. "You're probably the only single person left." "I highly doubt that." "No, seriously." Then he pointed toward a girl from his class. "You know her? The famous topic of the college ofcourse ...girls of my class are gross" I laughed because ofc i know Before I could say anything, he mentioned a girl from my class. And immediately started gossiping about her too. With absolutely no concern that I might know her. Or talk to her. Or repeat any of this later. The confidence was astonishing. We were sitting in the middle of an examination hall. Meanwhile, he was behaving like we were casually sitting in a park discussing campus news over snacks. He nodded thoughtfully. Then immediately asked something else. As if he'd just added information to a database. "What about situationship?" I stared. "No." "Talking stage?" "No." "Nothing?" "No." He laughed. Again. I was beginning to suspect he laughed in his sleep too. Every five minutes he would write three answers and then remember another question for me. Meanwhile I was trying to remember the capital of something. Or the inventor of something. Or whatever random fact the university had decided was important. Eventually, after what felt like several decades, the invigilator stood up. "Anyone who has finished may leave." The greatest sentence in human history. Immediately students began standing. I packed my things. He packed his. Then looked at me. "Shall we go?" Like we were leaving a meeting together. Or escaping prison together. "Yes." We walked out of the hall. For the first time all day there was actual silence. No questions. No conversation. Just students moving through the corridor. The moment we stepped outside, we naturally went in different directions. Thank God. I needed recovery time. Social recovery. Mental recovery. General Knowledge recovery. All three. A little later I found my cousin near the gate. We were talking when I suddenly noticed him. The boy. He walked past us. Not far away. Just across from where we were standing. For a second I watched him disappear into the crowd. Then immediately looked away. Because I was normal. Perfectly normal. Definitely not paying attention. A while later I found my friend. The moment she asked how the exam went, I started complaining. Not about General Knowledge. About him. "This boy would not stop talking." "What boy?" "The one sitting next to me." "What happened?" And then I told her everything. The hundred questions. The badminton question. The random interview. The nonstop talking. The laughing. The questions. All of it. By the time I finished, she was grinning. "What?" "Nothing." "Tell me." She laughed. "I think that's funny." "There is nothing funny about this." "There is." "There isn't." "There is." I rolled my eyes. "You know what" kumud said sudden mood shift. "What?" I asked. Kumud looked completely unimpressed. "You know what your problem is?" "What?" "You're being too nice." I stared at her. "Too nice?" "Yes." "Have you met me?" "I'm serious." She pointed at me dramatically. "If you had talked to him the way you actually talk, he would've stopped after five minutes." "The way I actually talk?" "Yeah. The rude version." "I'm not rude." "You are." "I'm not." "You absolutely are." I ignored her. Kumud continued anyway. "You were sitting there giving polite answers." "I said 'hmm' for half the exam." "Exactly. That's polite for you." I hated that she had a point. She shook her head. "If you'd used your normal attitude, one sarcastic comment would've been enough." "Wow. Thanks." "I'm helping." "No, you're insulting me." "I'm educating you." According to Kumud, the solution was simple. Stop answering nicely. Start speaking like myself. Apparently the nonstop conversation would've died a quick and painful death. Personally, I wasn't convinced. The boy seemed like the kind of person who could survive any amount of sarcasm. Possibly feed on it. Which was honestly a terrifying possibility. After a while she immediately started talking about her own crush. Which somehow led to a twenty-minute conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with exams. Typical. By the time I reached home that evening, I was exhausted. The exam had been terrible. The weather had been terrible. And the boy beside me had spoken enough words for an entire classroom. Surely I wouldn't have to deal with that again tomorrow. Right? Unfortunately for me, life thought that was hilarious. P.S.- Hello everyone this is your fav Narrator speaking. Before anyone asks why I suddenly disappeared and allowed her to narrate this chapter herself— No, I wasn't fired. No, I wasn't replaced. And no, I didn't lose control of the story. I simply stepped aside. Some moments are far more entertaining when people expose themselves without realizing it. Had I remained in charge, I would've spent half the chapter describing a girl pretending she wasn't annoyed and the other half describing a boy who treated an examination hall like a podcast studio. Instead, I let her tell it. A generous decision on my part, honestly. Also, let's acknowledge something important. For someone who claims she hates conversations, she remembered an alarming amount of that conversation. Every question. Every laugh. Every unnecessary comment. The entire residency verification process. Interesting. Very interesting. Meanwhile, the boy deserves recognition for achieving something previously believed impossible: He turned a General Knowledge exam into a social event. Scientists should study him. The university certainly won't. As for Kumud, she remains the only person brave enough to tell the truth. G was absolutely being nicer than usual. Which says less about her kindness and more about how terrifying her normal personality apparently is. Anyway. The exam was terrible. The weather was terrible. The questions were terrible. And yet somehow none of those became the main story. Life has a strange sense of humor. Unfortunately for everyone involved, this chapter was not the end. Not even close. And trust me— Things only get worse from here.

And that's how all of that started...

General Support / by Ayurabloom77

June 24th

...See more Since some you asked for a part two...here the next part just not the part two but how All of this started.... #Roll Number 94 Summer was a terrible season to have exams. Actually, summer was a terrible season in general. For her, summer felt like the world had turned the heat up just to test how much irritation a human could survive before becoming emotionally detached from society. The air felt sticky. The sun seemed personally offended by humanity. And every student in the college looked one inconvenience away from committing a crime. For her, college during exams didn’t feel like an institution. It felt like a temporary survival zone where students from different classes gathered only to suffer in parallel, not together. G arrived at the examination center fifteen minutes early. Not because she was responsible, but because anxiety treated “being late” like a moral failure deserving punishment. (Anxiety, unfortunately, had strong opinions and no chill.) The campus was already buzzing with different departments, different uniforms of stress, and the same collective exhaustion. Students stood in groups revising. Some paced, some prayed, and some had already given up emotionally but were still physically present out of respect for attendance rules. G noticed everything: the girl adjusting her dupatta for the fifth time like it could fix her marks; the boy aggressively revising as if memorizing harder would physically force answers onto the paper; the professor walking past with attendance sheets like he was collecting souls instead of signatures. People thought silence meant absence of thought. It didn’t. It just meant observation without permission. She stepped forward with her friend, Kumud. The exam hall was still a few minutes away, and students from different classes were scattered outside under the shade, waiting for entry. Kumud adjusted her pencil pouch. “i hope I end up sitting with someone good” Kumud muttered. G glanced at her. “That’s your biggest fear?” “Yes.” “Mine is existence itself, but okay.” Kumud rolled her eyes. “You’re dramatic.” “I’m accurate.” They walked a few steps closer to the hall gate. G looked at the rows of students from different classes standing around. “I hope some girl sits beside me,” she said casually. “At least it’ll be quiet.” Kumud stopped walking for a second and stared at her. “You are aware seating is random, right? Not your personal wishlist system.” “I’m just manifesting peace.” G said “You don’t manifest. You attract problems.” “That’s not scientifically proven.” “It is emotionally proven.” G sighed. “I think,” kumud said. “It’s gonna be a boy.” “Why do you sound so confident in my suffering?” “Because I’ve observed your life.” “Observing doesn’t mean predicting.” “In your case it does.” G didn’t reply, because arguing with Kumud was like arguing with a mirror that had opinions. Kumud adjusted her bag again. “Anyway, I’m going to my block. Different class, different hall.” “Lucky you,” G said. “You say that like I’m going on vacation.” “looks like it is.” Kumud gave a short laugh and stepped back. “Good luck surviving your hall.” “You too.” Kumud waved and walked off toward her assigned block. G stayed back for a moment, watching the flow of students split into different directions based on their classes. Same exam. Different rooms. Same stress. Different seating charts. Life really loved dividing suffering into sections. The bell rang for entry. Students began moving toward their respective exam halls. G checked her admit card. Roll Number: 94. A meaningless number that suddenly carried authority. She stepped forward and entered the hall. Rows of desks. Ceiling fans doing their usual underperformance. The ritual of exams beginning again. She found her seat. Seat two. She took out her pens, checked them, and checked them again. Anxiety liked repetition more than peace liked consistency. The seat beside her was empty. A beautiful sight for her and a rare gift from the universe. No introductions. No talks. No awkward human interaction. Perfect. For once, life appeared willing to cooperate. Naturally, this was suspicious. The exam began. Papers were distributed. Silence fell like it had been rehearsed. For her, exams weren’t about knowledge; they were about temporary disappearance from the world. No talking. No expectations. No unnecessary human interaction. Thirty minutes passed. Then forty. Then fifty. The seat beside her was still empty. A small victory. Not that she cared, but still victory. Perhaps fate had finally become tired. Perhaps miracles were real. Perhaps— The door opened, because peace never lasts longer than it should. A student entered. Late. Very late. The invigilator looked tired in a way only repeated disappointment can create. The student looked unbothered. Most people feared authority this boy appeared to fear absolutely nothing, including clocks. G didn’t react immediately, but her memory did. Last semester. Same face. Same pattern. Different exam Different partners (This time luckily or unluckily it has to be G), same habit of arriving late enough to make an entrance. Some people collected hobbies apparently, he collected attendance warnings. Not important, just familiar in the way repeated noise becomes familiar. The invigilator pointed toward the empty seat beside her. Of course. Naturally. Because the universe had overheard her prayer and decided comedy was more entertaining. Her empty seat had now officially lost its emotional ownership. The boy walked in and sat down. And just like that, two completely different people ended up sharing a desk row. G looked away instantly. Whatever. Not her problem. Just another student. Just another exam. Just another background detail she would forget the moment she left the hall. The exam continued. Time moved. Pens scratched. Silence held. No conversations. No introductions. No eye contact. Exactly how she liked it. When the final bell rang, the hall erupted into movement. Freedom always makes people loud, like silence was something they had been personally oppressed by. She packed her things with the urgency of someone escaping a crime scene. The boy beside her kept talking to his friend like silence was a personal enemy and he was determined to win the war. She stood, didn’t look, and left. Outside, the heat hit like reality checking attendance again. Summer, in all its unnecessary aggression, waited patiently. She stepped out of the hall area and joined the crowd where students from different classes were already mixing again. Her friend met her near the gate. “How was it?” Kumud asked. “The exam?” “No, your emotional stability.” “It survived.” “That bad?” “That average.” “So useless?” “Efficiently so.” Kumud laughed. “You know normal people discuss answers after exams.” “Normal people are terrifying,” G replied Together they walked toward the gate. Students argued, some celebrated, and some looked like they were rethinking their entire education. G moved through all of it like an observer trapped inside the simulation. “So…” G already regretted it. “So?” “You had a seat partner.” Kumud asked. “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “My eyes disagrees.” G exhaled and replied. “There was a seat partner.” “Aha.” “He came late.” “Aha.” “He sat.” “Aha.” “He wrote.” “Aha.” "He talked like the world is ending Tommorow" "Aha" “End of story.” Kumud nodded slowly and said. “You’re impossible.” “I’ve been told.” Many times, by people who eventually stopped trying. They walked toward the gate together. Sunlight stretched across the corridor like it had nothing better to do. Kumud was talking about something irrelevant again of course, her crush. G was listening halfway, as usual. They stepped out of the gate. Later, near the exit- that’s when she saw him again, coming from the opposite direction. Same boy. Same late energy. Different class, different path, same timing coincidence that felt like the universe had a sense of humor it refused to explain. G looked up. Their eyes met. Just a second. No meaning assigned. No story created. Just recognition. Then she looked away and kept walking, because for her, people weren’t stories yet. They were just details, and details only mattered when they refused to stay irrelevant. By the time she reached her stop, her social battery was completely dead. For her, crowded spaces always felt louder than they actually were like even silence had pressure. The small house stood exactly where she'd left it. Unfortunately. G looked at it with the same enthusiasm people reserved for dentist appointments. Home. Technically. She stepped inside. Her aunt was in the kitchen. Her uncle was not at home. No one looked particularly happy to see her. A normal day. No conversation, no "how's the exam was." Good. G escaped to her room before anyone could continue. The room was small, hot, and familiar. For her, it wasn’t comfort exactly; it was familiarity pretending to be comfort. She dropped her bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed. The ceiling fan spun overhead slowly, lazily, mocking her existence. She stared at it, then at the cracks in the ceiling, then back at the fan. One exam down. Several more to go. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. "I swear," she muttered to herself. "Next semester I'm never coming back here." A promise she'd made before. A promise she'd break again. Because reality didn't care about promises. Reality cared about money, about circumstances, and about choices she didn't have. She closed her eyes. Outside, the city continued moving. Inside, sleep began pulling at her thoughts. Tomorrow would bring another exam, another crowded hall, another exhausting day. And hopefully... no conversations. Because if there was one thing G was certain of, it was this people complicated everything. Sleep, on the other hand, never asked questions. P.S. Well well well Dear readers, You probably think she didn’t notice him. You probably think he didn’t notice her. Fair assumption. People love being confidently wrong. She is the kind of quiet that makes rooms forget she exists until they need attendance confirmed. He is the kind of loud that could start a conversation with a wall and somehow expect a response. She speaks in pauses. He speaks in paragraphs no one specifically requested. And no there’s no conversation. Not even a “hi.” Which, of course, is exactly what you expected from two strangers sharing oxygen for three hours in the same exam hall. Some of you were probably waiting for accidental eye contact, instant chemistry, dramatic tension, or at least one dropped pen. Unfortunately, real life does not always cooperate with reader expectations. You might even think they don’t care. Or worse, that they didn’t register each other at all. Cute theory. People notice far more than they admit. Especially the ones pretending not to. But admitting that would require self-awareness, and humanity has never been particularly consistent with that. She left the hall thinking nothing of him. He probably did the same. Or maybe they didn’t. After all, people are excellent at lying to themselves. Sometimes they do it so well they deserve awards. We never really know, do we? That’s the problem with stories like this the important parts rarely announce themselves. They don't arrive wearing neon signs and background music. They usually show up quietly, disguised as ordinary moments everyone ignores. And sometimes, the ones who look like background characters... aren’t. Which is unfortunate for them. And potentially entertaining for the rest of us.....

Ever seen a story go like this? No? Well… here we go today

General Support / by Ayurabloom77

June 22nd

...See more If this were a BookTok novel, the chapter titles would be dramatic, the tension would be unbearable, and every reader would spend half the book screaming "JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER." The boy noticed her first. Or maybe not first. But first enough. First enough to start conversations. First enough to ask questions. First enough to remember details. First enough to keep trying. And unfortunately for him, he had selected the worst possible target. A girl with anxiety and God knows what kind of mind... Not the cute kind. The kind that could turn a three-minute interaction into a twelve-hour internal court trial. ....... "What kind of talks do you like?" he asked. A normal question. A harmless question. A question designed to continue a conversation. The girl stared at the opportunity. Examined it. Considered it. And then drove directly off a cliff. "I don't really like talking." The boy blinked. "Okay... what do you prefer?" "Nothing." Somewhere, God closed His eyes. ...... The thing nobody tells you about anxious people is that they often expect others to understand feelings they never express. The girl wanted him to understand that: "I don't know how to talk." "I get overwhelmed." "I get nervous." "I don't know why I care." Instead she said: "Nothing." A truly excellent translation. Ten out of ten. No notes. ..... The boy spent days asking about her. What she liked. What she did after exams. Where she went. How she spent her time. Meanwhile she learned approximately three facts about him. One of them was that he arrived late. Another was that he observe his question paper very well. The third was probably discovered accidentally. Yet somehow she would later claim she felt neutral. Neutral. The narrator would like to challenge that statement. Because neutral people do not spend days replaying conversations. Neutral people do not monitor whether someone leaves an exam hall quickly and how someone writes their answer and how they observe their exam paper. Neutral people do not notice where someone is standing from across a canteen. Neutral people do not develop entire emotional subplots over a boy they've met five times. ..... Then came the message. The message. The one that changed everything. "If you're not interested, then it's okay. I'm not gonna force you" Simple. Polite. Respectful. Devastating. Not because he was cruel. But because he believed her. Readers often think heartbreak begins with rejection. Sometimes it begins with being believed. --- The funny thing? The boy probably thought he was doing the right thing. And objectively speaking, he was. Imagine being him. You ask questions. You start conversations. You try. You try again. You ask what she likes. She says nothing. You ask what she prefers. She says nothing. You suggest maybe she isn't interested. She agrees. At that point continuing would feel less romantic and more like harassment. So he stepped back. Reasonable. Logical. Healthy. Unfortunately healthy decisions are terrible for slow-burn romance plots. --- And then disaster struck. The girl realized she wanted to talk to him. Not when he was talking. Not when he was trying. Not when he was asking questions. No. That would have been far too convenient. She realized it after he stopped. A masterpiece of timing. --- Now she watched him. Not intentionally. Not creepily. Just in the way people watch things they insist don't matter. He left quickly. Why? She didn't know. He stood in the canteen when he never go there. Why? She didn't know. Maybe he looked at her. Maybe he didn't. At this point her anxiety was writing fanfiction faster than reality could provide evidence. --- The truth sat quietly beneath all the confusion. She liked something about him. Maybe his attention. Maybe his curiosity. Maybe the way he kept showing up. Maybe him. She wasn't sure. What she was sure about was this: Other people had liked her before. Other people had tried harder. Other people had shown more obvious interest. And none of them had lived rent-free inside her head like this. That didn't prove love. It didn't prove fate. It didn't prove soulmates. It proved one thing. This one mattered. More than she wanted to admit. --- So now they stand on opposite sides of the same problem. The boy thinks: "She isn't interested." The girl thinks: "Why isn't he talking?" The readers think: "These two are ***." And honestly? The readers have a point. Because somewhere between anxiety and assumptions, between pride and uncertainty, two people managed to create an entire emotional crisis from a conversation that could have been solved in about six honest words. The tragedy isn't that they don't know how the story ends. The tragedy is that both of them probably think the other person wrote the ending. When neither of them actually finished the chapter .... To be continued.....

The loudest storms are the ones inside the mind.

General Support / by Ayurabloom77

June 13th

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