Chase had never experienced something like this. There was just one word for it crazy. It made him restless. It made him feel small. It made him feel powerful. Crazy.  This was the ultimate shit.  Everything appeared distorted. He could only see the small packet of white powder. Losing control. Losing the inhibitions. The heady rush. It was insane. No wonder people got addicted to it. Chase didn’t mind the addiction. All he wanted was the  high. He cared about nothing else. Why should he? Above all, who should he care about? The people who tore him down into pieces?  The people who stepped on the broken pieces damaging them permanently?  Accidentally? On purpose? He was beyond that. He no longer cared about a thing. The world was a shitty place. The snuff made it less shitty. It made him forget the red river of blood. It made him forget the crushed bones and the cracked skins. And all those hollow unfeeling eyes. The hooded man, the gun, the bullet, the  hole and all that blood. It still woke him up screaming every night.  He just wanted to erase it all. That was all he wanted. To forget it. All of it. Nothing other than drugs worked. Nothing. He’d done it all. And now he was ready to give up. There was nothing left to give up other than his spirit. His life was long gone. He was numb, unfeeling. As unfeeling as those eyes who had pulled the trigger. Hope. Faith. All were myths. In the end, all you were left with was this emptiness. Lucky were the people who could ignore. He took another sniff.  Fuck. Heaven. No actually. No drugs in heaven. Laughing maniacally he left Shelby’s place. All this time Shelby was doing drugs. Who knew? She had supposedly been the good ol’ girl next door all this while. Chase had to make up for all the lost time.
He was down the street with no lights. He could still the echoes of his maniacal laugh. Only he doubted if it was his. Because he was as quiet as a mouse and the laughter still rang in his ears. Getting stronger and stronger by the minute.  He held on to a broken a lamp post and shrieked trying to block the deranged laugh. Finally he couldn’t fight it. And he gave up yet again. He was exhausted. HE was sick. Sick of all of it. Loss. Pain. Suffering. All the bullshit. His eyes drooped down. He tried to fight. He didn’t want to pass out on the pavement. But he couldn’t. He had no fight left in him. He could feel the cool night air enter his jacket, t-shirt, jeans and finally his skin. It froze his blood. It chilled his bones. It frosted his breath. So this was how it was. The end. Finally it had come to him. He could feel it. He looked up into the stars. He could see the stars. He remembered. He had always loved the stars. All of a sudden he felt happy. He could see the stars. He smiled as his eyelids snapped shut. He could see the stars.

Thoughts from the hospital bed

Okay so technically I’m home now. There isn’t a hospital bed in sight. But I still cannot speak and it hurts like a bitch.
I got operated today. Chucked out those troublesome tonsils. I was damn scared. I hadn’t even broken a bone or got stitches till today. I still don’t have any broken bones but I do have stitches in my throat and they hurt, pesky little things.
And the ice creams! Oh my God! For the past two years, consumption of ice creams would lead to a guilt trip and swelling up of my tonsils and pain; lots of pain. Right now, because of all the ice cream I’m made to eat, I would be dancing if I wasn’t so dizzy.
Social support is the availability of people around us who let us know that they are care about and love us. I’m so incredibly lucky to have such a strong social support system around me.
Two of my cousins knowing that I would be freaking out tried to console me via text. It felt so good. They live in two different cities and they not only remembered the date but also started their efforts to avoid major freak out on my part two days prior to the date.
Shubhu, a friend of mine who lives far enough that she’d have to change three trains to reach my place, offered to sit with me throughout the hospital.
And my lobster, Adi, she turned up today morning and distracted me till I left for the hospital and then babysitted my kid sister.
And most of my other friends at least sent me an ‘All the best’ message.
Then when it was time to go to the hospital, I was accompanied by three people. Both my uncles and mom.
I feel so loved and cared for right now. I am grateful to everyone who were so damn concerned about me. Love you guys! :*
And don’t worry, I’m going to be absolutely fine 😉


I’ve become obsessed with TV shows thrice. There were three different shows and I hated missing even a single episode.
Grey’s Anatomy was the first time I actually started following English (shows in English language) TV series. To be frank, I didn’t care about Meredith Grey. I actually started watching it because I liked Katherine Heigl (27 Dresses, The Ugly Truth <3). I continued because I developed an elephant sized crush on T.R. Knight. By the time he left the show, I was too hooked to stop. I did stop watching it eventually. It stopped coming on Star World.
Next was One Tree Hill. God! I loved that one! Why? Chad Michael Murray. (This is where I go all dreamy-eyed.) I liked the character Peyton Sawyer too. She was badass and tortured artist-ty. Plus she had excellent taste in music. I stopped watching OTH after Chad and Hilarie Burton left the show. I tried but their absence was way too obvious.
And the third show was F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Friends is the first TV sitcom I completed and the only one so far. I cannot tell you one single reason why I saw all ten seasons because there are so many reasons. I crack up at least once per episode. The cast is amazing. So is the storyline. No wonder people still watch Friends ten years after the series finale.
So yeah. I like watching TV. But I have never seen an entire season of any TV series in one day. It is possible. I know people who’ve done it. But not me.
Until now.
Today was a day well-spent. After much persuasion from a friend of mine, I finally saw Sherlock today. An entire season. And oh my God! Next time I meet (which will hopefully be soon) my friend, I’m giving her a beeeeeeeeeeg hug!
So this post is basically me singing praises of Sherlock.
Where should I start?
Benedict Cumberbatch. The name makes me swoon. Really. Could anyone be a better Sherlock? Nope. Not possible. Not even Robert Downey Jr.
And what is it that makes him so bloody awesome?
Everything. Let’s start with his hair.
Sherlock Holmes has soft, black curls which are messy and tidy in equal measure. I wish I had hair like that. It’s hair with personality. It is that kind of hair which can keep me fascinated for hours. Playing with curls is so much fun, isn’t it?
Though of course I would never dare to touch Sherlock’s hair.
Moving onto his eyes. I’ve read about steely grey eyes which ooze wit in the tons numerous times. Never have I ever actually seen them, in person or on TV. Sherlock’s eyes are tiny peepholes to the brilliance of his brilliant brain….
…which brings me to his brain. That’s a no-brainer. It’s impossible to have the words ‘Sherlock Holmes’ and ‘Stupid’ in one sentence. (A feat I’ve successfully managed.) The science of deduction is nothing short of brilliant.
And his winks and half-smiles? *Melts into a swooning puddle*
Martin Freeman is terrific as Dr. John Watson. He’s badass. But in a quiet, composed way.
All three cases of season 1 were absolutely gripping. I couldn’t stop watching. And now, I’m left wondering how am I supposed to wait for watching season 2? It’ll have to be tomorrow evening. And that’s too bloody long.
That brings to something else I’d like to mention.
There’s nothing I hate more than cliffhangers. Really. Rick Riordan has successfully made me lose my sleep because of cliffhangers. Not again! No! No! No!
Here’s to another sleepless night. Or maybe a night full of dreams of Mr. Holmes. That’ll be awesome!
p.s. I’m Sherlocked! 😀 ❤ ❤ ❤

An Encounter with the Quackers

The day was turning out to be boring as hell. Getting something productive done seemed to be impossible at this point. The laptop wasn’t working. There was nothing even remotely interesting on the telly. Finally when they started showing the Sherlock Holmes movie and Robert Downey Jr’s Robert Downey Jrness started consoling her poor bored self, she had to go drop her sister off at the gymnastics class.
This obviously worsened her already sour mood. She tried to cheer herself up a bit with the help of Green Day but it didn’t seem to be working. Nothing seemed to be working that day. She reached the playground and her sister ran off towards the gymnastics group leaving our girl with her extremely heavy diva bag.
She rested her ass on a bench in the lawn,her boredom levels shooting up by the minute. Now she tried The Submarines-another great band with really cheerful music. Nope. Also she could feel the sun right above her head sucking out whatever resemblance to sanity that was left with her.
She changed her place of seating as she found a piece of grassed land which provided some amount of protection from the unwanted attention of the vile vile sun. She decided to do something she was good at.
She switched on her cellphone and started reading a book.
Now, originally, she had been hesitant to read because she had already read an entire full sized young adult book that day. Her hunger for books was satiated for the day. Also, she had forgotten to carry the next book she had had queued up for reading. But, desperate times call for desperate measures. On the basis of this principle, she commenced reading the sequel of the book she had read that morning.
Ahhh. Bliss. She thought. She was worried that something would undeniably go wrong yet again. But soon, this thought was banished to the unconscious as she became entangled in the troubles of the protagonist momentarily forgetting her own.
The book was turning out to be a good read. She was completely absorbed. Even the sun seemed to give up on his efforts to torment her. To validate this claim, she looked up from her book and looked into a pair of solemn eyes.
‘You are sitting on my property. I might have to take you to court, though it pains me to do so.’ They seemed to say.
Her vision and other senses focused as the fog caused by the good book dissipated. She was still staring into those solemn eyes but, now she realized that there was a beak attached. A yellow one to be precise.
“Quack!” Said the duck with all the indignation a duck could possibly muster. All traces of solemnity had reached Timbuktu by now.
That was a mad mad duck, she thought .
“Quack!” Called out the duck to it’s companions who immediately waddled to their mate’s aid.
Now she was looking at four pairs of exasperated eyes.
“Quack!” Said all four of them in practised harmony as she jumped to her feet and moved back a few steps. All the people in the lawn burst out laughing. Not wanting to be a sore loser, she laughed at herself. She watched the four ducks waddle around in unison as they tried to intimidate the little kids who were playing around.
“Aah.” She thought. “The ducks are just playground bullies.”

The Consequences of Taking Chances

There are moments which are opportunities in disguise. These moments, they dare you to do something that you wouldn’t usually do. Something that is totally out of character or maybe something that you’re almost sure won’t have positive consequences. Something that is highly likely to make you cringe every time there’s a reference to it in the future; no matter how remote. It might scar you for the rest of your life. And the list of things that could go wrong? It’s endless.
The thing is that the list of stuff that could go absolutely right is pretty long too. But that’s something most of us forget due to our fear and inhibitions.
So the question remains, is taking chances advisable or not?
Of course it is! All of us take chances, in the plural, every single day.
Nothing really is foolproof. There is some amount of risk involved in everything we do. But that doesn’t mean we stop doing things. Especially new things. It does not have to be something grand or something big. It need not even leave a mark. You could take a chance on a new ice-cream flavor or a new book. That is relatively simple.
What if the new flavor turns out to be puke-worthy or the new book makes you feel as if you’re dying of boredom?
At least, you’ll know that it bores you. Or that you cannot stand that flavor of ice-cream. You will have taken the first of your baby-steps towards self-discovery. And getting to know oneself definitely can’t be bad.
I mean isn’t it better to have loved and lost than never loved at all? We can’t ignore the fact that we’ll know what love is and we’ll know what heart-break is. It’s like ying-yang. Without darkness, we won’t be able to appreciate light. Not really.
And without heartbreak, without loss, I believe we are incapable of valuing love.
It’s not always about winning or losing. Sometimes, it’s about experiencing.

The Word ‘Schmuck’

My blog name ‘Diary of an introverted schmuck’ was originally a random phrase that popped into my mind and refused to leave. Then I thought why not make it my blog title? I am introverted and I am an idiot. Well, er, usually.

I have my moments. I have even been called wise. But then I feel like I should put on a long white beard, half-moon spectacles, wizard robes and high heeled shoes. Which makes me conjure up an image where I’m tap-dancing. In a Dumbledore costume. This ultimately makes me realize that I am not wise. Not at all.

Moving on…

So I took this opportunity to look up the word ‘schmuck’ (Go Google!).

‘Schmuck’ has three meanings in three different languages-

  • American English- It’s pejorative which means it’s a derogatory word. It means a stupid or foolish person. It also refers to a person who is a jerk.

(Am I a jerk? I hope not…though I most certainly consider myself as an idiot.  Just yesterday, I was at my friend Adi’s place. I was putting on my shoes and I accidently pushed her key-hanger. That is okay. Happens….but then I apologized to it while Adi burst out laughing behind me. In my defense, I was muddled due to my terrible cold. But an idiot, nevertheless. )


  • German- I feel so mad at myself! I should have known this one! I spent the last two years learning German vocab. And I did know that schmuck is jewellery in German but somehow I didn’t connect the dots here. How bad is that? Argh.


  • Yiddish-  Schmuck in Yiddish refers to “male genitals”. *Gives a Chandler Bing look*

Schmuck is originally a Yiddish word.  It is actually regarded as vulgar to be taboo. And it is also banned in many Jewish households.

Oh freak! Holy Hera! I never intended to insult or offend anyone but myself. So I ask the Jewish viewers (if any) to please think of the ‘schmuck’ here as jewels or idiot depending upon what they think of this blog.

Actually, that goes to all the viewers.

Say, you hate this post, then you can be “Mia is such a schmuck (idiot)”

Or if you like it, then “Mia is a schmuck! (Jewel, preferably onyx ‘coz black is my favorite color.)”

I also found out that the German word ‘schmuck’ could have been derived from the Yiddish word because ‘male genitals’ are ‘jewels of the family’.

Seriously? What a load of bull! I mean, the very same people who were responsible for the above transition must have thought of women as trash. Babies are awesome but remember birds and bees? It takes two to tango. So why just penises are considered jewels? Why not vaginas? Why not both?

Am I even making sense?

So, finally, I figured that ‘Diary of an introverted schmuck’ can be interpreted in two ways.

One. Diary of a hidden idiot.

Or two. Diary of a hidden jewel.

It’s up to you now.

But please, definitely not Diary of a hidden penis. That’ll be just plain gross.



Me in a blog post

There was a time when I hated new beginnings. Not anymore. I’ve grown to love the adventure that accompanies change. This blog is another adventure that I am about to embark upon. I did try blogging before. And failed in the worse way possible. The problem? I suck at commitment. No, it wasn’t that I didn’t like blogging. I love talking about myself and things that I love or that concern me. Someone even called me self-obsessed. More on that later.

Basically, it’s just that I’m the Queen of Procrastination. See? I’ve written around ninety words so far and not even introduced myself. Let me rectify that right now!

I am Mia and I’m from India. I live in Mumbai which is an awesome place to live in. I’ll turn eighteen in three months. Yay! Although I wish I turned eighteen earlier than that so that I could vote in the coming elections.

My favorite way of procrastination is reading. The most I can go without reading something or the other is twelve hours. Then I become restless and end up reading a lot…like an entire book. Which isn’t a bad thing. Mostly .

I love music as much as I love books which basically means that I can’t go longer than twelve hours without listening to a song. Or two. Which then ends up being a playlist of some twenty songs.

I love the TV show ‘F.R.I.E.N.D.S.’. I can watch any number of times and laugh out loud EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I love buying accessories-the freakier the better. I especially have a skull fixation. I think being different is pretty awesome. I don’t get the point of being ‘normal’ because for me normal equals to mundane. And let’s face it, every single person on this earth and beyond has at least one quirk. So why deny the obvious?

I also love buying books. That reminds about another thing I’ve been procrastinating. I need to arrange my book shelves. And count and note down the books I own. This is a fun task but I have a bad, bad cold. What’s worse than having a cold?

Well, let me assure you, having a cold in summer is way worse. Ice creams! Sprites! Watermelons! *Sob*Sob*

I am fluent in English, Hindi and Marathi and I am learning French and German. In the next twelve years i.e. by the time I’m thirty, I hope to be fluent in ten languages at least. The other five languages should include Spanish, Italian, Greek and Japanese. The fifth language is still undecided. Any suggestions?

I have a sister. She’s younger to me by six whole years. We have the love/hate relationship that siblings do.

Another one of my true loves is food. My mum’s a really great cook. This means that there is something different every evening on the dinner table. I love trying out new cuisines. The tragic thing is that I cannot cook. Believe me, I’ve tried. The outcomes have been horrible. And that’s me putting them lightly.

So I did this thing where I asked a friend from different parts of my life to write a few sentences about me. Here’s what they have to say-

Silly is one of my first friends ever! We’ve been friends for almost seventeen years! She says-

“Mia is the awesomest writer and the coolest best friend anyone could ever get!!! Please never stop writing, Mia! I ❤ your works!”

I am actually blushing right now. In reality, Silly is the best bestfriend any girl could ask for! She was indeed there for me when I was in need. I have no clue what I would do without her. Really.

Then I asked two of my school friends Ravenclawsam and Raoshriya. They are bloggers too. In fact, both of them were instrumental in me starting a blog.

Sam says-

“Always trying to do the out-of-the-ordinary, be it with her writing, choice of music, or her “style” where she wears 2 different earrings in each ear! Constantly writing something or the other, be it short stories, poems or just pieces, she also reads books by the dozen. Mia (as I call her, and so will most of you now) and I bond over books, writing, languages, film, fashion, food and television. A great sense of humor while at the same time an ability to carry out a scintillating conversation- what else do you need in a friend? “


And Shriya


“M – mischievous

A – artsy

I – introvert

T – temperamental

R – robust

E – energetic

Y – yabber-y/yabber-er

E – enthusiastic

E – evil

You are a lot more than this, but you are the writer, not me. That’s the best I can do”


PS- Mia is a pen name of sorts. Legally, I’m Maitreyee.

Here’s what people who I hang out with the most aka my college group have to say-

Adi –“Although an Indian, Mia is not a typical Indian girl. She prefers Billie Joe Armstrong over Bollywood songs. But she does listen to some Bollywood songs when the content is good.”

Netra- “The girl who prefers skulls over lipsticks and sneakers over fancy boots.”

Well, two of the four…

And one of my newest friends Piyu

“The day I met this girl is probably one of my luckiest days! She is practically my soul sister. She might act bitchy sometimes 😛 but she is all softy inside. We can talk basically on any topic and never get bored of each other. We share many freaky coincidences! If you want a book best friend, she is your girl. She is loyal and very friendly. I’m glad I met her 😀 ”

So, it seems that all of them have good things to say about yours truly. But they are my friends! So obviously they like me!

You can continue reading my blog and form your own opinions. Hopefully, you will like me too and maybe we can even be friends!

Won’t that be great? 😀

That’s me. In a blog post.


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