Picture a girl who is 15 years of age. She is starting her year for the 10th standard. Excited for the new chapters coming up in her life, she is fond of reading, drawing, playing with paint and colors and most of all, being happy in who she is. Fast forward to the middle of 10th grade, she is fighting for her place in between the truckload of students in her school. Schools, which are famous for producing machines who have the same thought process for each individual just different life stories (let’s leave it at that, as it would start another debate.) She finds and confides her whole being to a handful of friends, showing her weird, crazy and traumatic side and only asks for watching her back. Holding her trust close to their hearts and just being there.
She soon realizes everyone is walking away. Wait, is it because I told them a bunch of stuff which didn’t fit the ‘cool code’? She wonders, she wonders day and night. Hiding in the bathroom, hiding in the library, she wants solace. Unable to seek help, her frustrations are buckled up deep inside. Unable to communicate she is getting agitated, she wants out. Three years go by, she has given up. Her former friends bully her, they look at her with ridicule. What a loner, they say. She needs to get a life, she doesn’t say much, why is her hair that way, she doesn’t smile. This is the best one, go away from here, you freak! This girl right now might as well be dead.