A Call Back Home.

          I was walking through crowds of people in downtown New York. It was rush hour and everyone was looking forward to go home and meet their loved ones. Sadly, I wasn't. After all, everyone was in Mumbai. I didn't want to go back to the lonely apartment that I had rented out when I had moved here two years ago.
       
         It was then when I was thinking about the mess my life had become that I saw you. You were wearing the same vest and your 'customized' torn jeans looking very, very out of place. What I mean is, everyone around you were wearing designer business suits and dress shoes or sky high stilettos and you still had your old pink Converse shoes on. You were pretty much oblivious to the nasty stares that people were giving you or you simply chose to ignore them, now that, I shall never know. You reminded me of my old self back home. After staring at you for 3 minutes and 31 seconds straight, I made a beeline towards you. Obviously, the universe was against me that evening and I lost you in the sea of people.
         

        I tried to find you. I looked around the place for you, I really did. But maybe it wasn't my day. So, I went back to my apartment after my failed search mission . But seeing you brought many thoughts in my mind. Like, what were you even doing here, in NYC? Last that I had heard about you, you were studying back in Mumbai about micro organisms! I did realize something though. I had been so preoccupied  with my non existent social life and my job that I didn't even bother to see whether everything was okay at home. I had no idea how everyone was doing there.

       I was so involved in all the business deals, bills and grocery shopping that I didn't even know how mum and dad were doing. I hadn't spoken to them for over a month. I had given the blind eye to all their missed calls. I'm shocked that they aren't here by now! I hadn't seen them in so long, And that's when I broke. I had forgotten to add my family and friends in my new world here, in NYC. Maybe in the back of my head I had realized it but it took a familiar face to finally work on it.
       
      While doing all the thinking a thought came which terrified me. Was is too late? Were everyone back home angry? Or did they forget me?!
     
      So, that was all that it took.  A familiar face to remind me of home and a few dreadful thoughts for me to make that call back home.
   
      "Hello".

Semicolon; This is not the end.

       
           
 Dear Amanda,
                   There are approximately 80,000,000,000,000,000 leaves is this world. 10,000,000,000,000 stars in our galaxy. 200,000,000,000 birds on this planet. 7,000,000,000 people. And out of all of them, one is dying of Ependymoma. Me.
                  I know. I know. Everything dies, all things have an end, what goes up must come down. It's a natural thing, to die. I mean, every sentence has a period, every road somehow ends in a cliff. It just seems as if a brain tumor at seventeen seems like a misplaced period right in the middle of a Shakespearean Sonnet. By time they found the tumor it was too late. "Maybe you just studied so much," my mum said, teary-eyed, "that your brain couldn't take it anymore." It's pretty ironic that someone like me would die due to brain cancer. Because I am a type of person that takes Calculus just for the fun of it, who refuses to write colloquially, even in a text message, who spends a Saturday night curled up on her bed reading a book. I am the type of person who keeps the doors open for strangers, someone who saves every single piece of her schoolwork she's ever had because of the paranoia of needing to use it later.
                In a few days the number of people who care so much about everything will dwindle by one. But will that change anything? Probably not, except for my family and friends who incessantly come to my room with food I don't want to eat and Hallmark cards I don't want to read. At first I was so angry that I wouldn't even get out of bed. But then I realized that I hardly have any days left,so why waste them as well? I at least wanted to have the accomplishment of graduating High School if not higher education. I told my friends to keep it a secret, after all, I didn't need the fake sympathy of people who didn't even know me. There were so many things that I still wanted to do. the whole nine yards(or is it five?) so many things I'll never get to do. I'll never. I'll never.
             My life maybe has a small meaning, so I'll assume that my death will have a purpose, a meaning, something meaningful that's worth the disrupting period in the middle of a beautiful phrase. There's one thing I hope for. It's that after I die, people don't avoid my name like the plague. They say that a person dies twice, once when they take their last breath and the other when someone takes their name for the last time. I'm already dying early, so please don't let me die early twice! But...why me?
           Amanda, I think its time to let you know who I am. I'm sure you don't remember me. That's the main reason why this is addressed to you. Because I have no weight in your life and I don't feel bad for whining. I just need you to know how important one of your brief sentences was to me.In fifth grade, my dog died. She was the only thing that I ever had the privilege to call my pet. Everyone around me in the lunch room were either oblivious or didn't care about my crying. I didn't know which was worse. I was about to run away, but in that precise moment you came and chose to sit beside me with your lunch tray. You said the wisest thing that I'd ever heard in my life (and I've read many books and listened to a lot of wise people) "Grief doesn't change you," you said. "It reveals you." Then you got up and left and never said another word to me.
          You were my partner in English class last year. We were learning about semicolons. The teacher told us that the sentence could have ended, but it didn't. Instead, the author put in a semicolon where a period could have been but continued. For some reason, I glanced at your notes and saw that you had written "Life" next to the semicolon. I did not know what it meant then but later on in life, I did. I could have packed my bags and waited for death to come after my diagnosis but chose not to. As the author of my life, I decided to keep going. I know its not proper but I want my death to be a semicolon. I don't want to die there and my story to end. I know my soul will leave my body but I still want to be alive. As cheesy as it sounds, I want to be alive in the hearts of the people who know me, who love me. If Hitler gets to be remembered for being so terrible by generations, I at least want to be remembered for another 20 years. If you're going to become an author please write about me, continue the story from the semicolon, I give you the permission to do that. This life is short, even  those that live past a 100 years, they're just a blib in the time continuum of this universe.

          Maybe my true death will be years from now, when all the people I loved have left for their abode. Maybe my friends will grant me another infinity by telling their kids about me. But hopefully, you will write about me and I'll be forever immortal by the black prints on white paper.I have resigned to the fact that I will die, but it will be nothing special. everyone will, I will just have few months of suffering beforehand and it's not something I mind 'cause I've learnt so much this summer.
          And the most important thing is that there is time and place to die, but this isn't it;

 Rest well
 Sincerely and finally,
      Autumn

Hello Beautiful

           
           Do you ever compare yourself to someone, who in your eye is a billion times prettier than you? Do you ever feel fat, ugly, unimportant or neglected? Everybody is insecure about themselves, and it's completely normal. Even the most beautiful girl in your class has her share of flaws. But flaws are the things that make you, YOU. There is only one of you in this big world, you are special, beautiful and perfect in your own way. You are not ugly, nobody is. People are only in different colors, body shapes, facial contours, but we all are still the same
           
         Treat each other with respect. Even though your tummy may have a little more fat than other girls or maybe your complexion isn't as fair as you want it to be, be proud of how you look, because this is how you were born. Your genes come from the two people that you love the most, that's right, your mum and dad. Show them that you are proud of how you are. A smile on your face indicates confidence and makes you look 10 times more beautiful. Stop comparing yourself with model looking girls, because they were born like they are. No matter how much you wish to look like them it just wont happen. Why spend all your life being insecure about yourself? When you can have a great time accepting the way you look? Who cares if your nose is a little big, your ears are pointy, you have a double chin or your tummy has more fat than others?!

        Nobody wants to see you unhappy, because you are perfect. And that's not just something I say, I really mean it.Some people in this world will have no respect for, treat you like dirt, call you names and tell you that you are ugly. Keep away from those people, they don't deserve you. The people who bully others often have low self-confidence and want to get more confidence by bringing other people down. Don't let your weight define you. Get of the scale! You are a beautiful person. Your beauty, just like the capacity of your life,happiness and love is immeasurable.
   
       I have yet to see a scale that can tell you how shiny your eyes are when you smile,  how lovely your hair looks in the sunlight, how contagious your smile is, how caring your heart is or how deep is your soul. Just remember that you are one of a kind. You are beautiful because every human being is beautiful and perfect.