#quiet struggles

[mydarkawaits]

Everyone loses interest in me.

[emilyblunt955]

The Quiet Crisis: What It Really Feels Like to Be 17 in India

The silent breakdowns nobody talks about.

Okay. So where do we begin? Let’s begin with me.

I’m 17, living in India — which automatically makes this account authentic, whether anyone likes it or not.

Life here feels like a blur of highs and lows, twisted tighter than rollercoaster rails. I’m currently in college, and I think the entire world might agree with me on this: college couples are insufferable. Every time I see one, my brain asks a very sincere question — why? Why willingly sign up for drama that lasts a few months and ends exactly how everyone knows it will?

And yet.

There’s a smaller, quieter part of me — the part that wants to be held and healed — that trembles with jealousy. With envy. With want.

Relationships have seeped into every corner of Indian adolescence now. From 12-year-olds to 30-year-olds, everyone wants a partner. The 30-year-olds — fair enough. But the 12-year-olds? Please. Put the chits down and pick the textbooks back up.

And I get the appeal. I really do. As a broken-but-healing, academically traumatised Indian girl, I want a boyfriend too. Someone with strong arms — arms that could hold me together when I feel like I’m coming apart.

But I don’t see it happening anytime soon. Not necessarily because I can’t get one — though that fear exists — but because hyper-independence is a strange curse. You want to rely on someone, but you don’t allow yourself to. You want to be kissed, but you hesitate — do I really want to give that to someone? You want to be held, but you wonder: will those arms support me? And if they can… will they?

Let’s not sink entirely into existential dread. I was talking about being 17 — not my non-existent love life. Forgive me.

Because being 17 is also fun. You get this strange, newly unlocked freedom — and absolutely no idea what to do with it. You learn that freedom isn’t butterflies and cupcakes. It’s more like: Do I actually have money for this? Why do I need to wash my clothes again — I just did that three days ago? And occasionally: Yes, we can have a midnight party! Unless you’re tired. In which case, sleep wins.

Being 17 in India feels like existing halfway between a child and an old grandmother. You’re excited about a trampoline park — but you also hope your back survives it. You’re dopamine-fuelled, confused, restless, exhausted — a walking paradox. You want to go out, but… do we have to? You want to make friends, but talking to new people is oddly draining. You want to have fun, but wow — why does my back hurt?

It’s a messy in-between. You’re still deeply attached to your parents, and living without them feels hard — but you’re learning to try. You’re learning how to keep secrets from them, even though part of you wants to spill everything to your mother like she’s your personal gossip partner. I know this transition happens earlier in the West. For me, it’s happening now.

You learn that emotional independence isn’t glamorous. That financial independence is intimidating. That growing up is far messier than anyone prepared you for.

You realise the so-called “golden years” aren’t polished gold — they’re murky, unrefined. Still valuable. Just not as shiny. You learn that Instagram isn’t really a fun place — it’s either a way to shut your brain off completely or overload it all at once. You become aware of the world’s problems, and then the even bigger ones waiting ahead. You learn to admire the future — and fear it — simultaneously.

Honestly, I think I’ve run out of words.

The feeling of being 17 isn’t easy to define. But this is my attempt.

Until next time.

[redbeautyskimmonsftw]

I want to give every ounce of love and respect I have to Barbara Lopez, man...

[dechnsign]

40 LPA Guy Meets 5 LPA Guy in Bengaluru

Dost kaisa bhi ho… dost hota hai. ❤️

I still recall a podcast where Anshika Gupta interviewed Tanay Pratap. They were discussing salaries - ₹15K, ₹20K, ₹50K, ₹1L, and Tanay said something that stayed with me:

“Paisa luck ki cheez hoti hai.”

At that time, I agreed. Today, I understand it even more deeply.

Because I’ve lived it.

I remember my journey to my first job in 2019.

When I was struggling to land my first job, this is what was happening in parallel:

A Vadodara-based studio offered me a role as a Graphic Designer. Merkle Sokrati offered me an internship in Pune, with the same pay and extra money for night shifts. Mindtree reviewed my portfolio for a designer role. Nagarro called me for an interview in Gurgaon—without realising I was in Ratlam.

Multiple opportunities. Multiple cities. Multiple possibilities.

I chose Vadodara. It became my first job. I worked there for 4 months. (That’s another story altogether.)

Deja Vu in 2021 Two years later, the same pattern repeated. After sitting idle, freelancing, and chasing clients for almost two years:

An EdTech startup offered me a Graphic Designer role. Monsoonfish called me up, but couldn’t agree to extend remote work. Same story for Flipkart. Coditas offered a 3-month internship with better pay, but no job guarantee.

Once again, choices. Once again, uncertainty. And once again, I chose stability.

I joined the EdTech startup.

Many times, people say: “You’re in your comfort zone.”

But what they don’t see is this: Sometimes, it’s not comfort.

It’s a compulsion. It’s circumstances. It’s responsibilities. It’s timing. It’s survival. Not everyone has the privilege to “take risks” when life itself feels risky.

So whenever conversations around LPAs, packages, and comparisons start, my heart quietly sinks. Because behind every number, there is a story.

Success isn’t always about talent. It isn’t always about hard work.

Sometimes… It’s also about luck. About timing. About being at the right place, at the right moment.

And about having the courage to keep going - even when things don’t go your way.

Credit: Baba & Nawab Scene – Aatish: Feel the Fire (1994) Kriti_Riti_Love_Story (YouTube)