Judge Me a Little Slower
There was this race called ‘Frog jump’ which used to be a part of the Annual Sports Meet of my Nursery School. I had participated in it. I was on the verge of reaching the finish line when I looked back and saw my then best friend a stone’s throw away. I decided to wait up for her, and soon, she caught up with me and overtook me in no time. Judge me a little slower; I was just a kid back then – too naive to be able to differentiate between the spirit of a competition and the bond of friendship.
In middle school, there was this guy on whom I had a huge crush. I shared my feelings with a bunch of close friends. A few days later, I was subjected to a surplus amount of unexpected mockery from my entire class, which almost rendered me friendless and reduced me to tears. Judge me a little slower; I put my trust in people way too easily back then. Turned out, the people I had put my trust in and had confided my secrets in had bared my secrets to the whole world. I promised myself that I would keep my emotions to myself.
I was a good student throughout my academic career. All my report cards flashed numbers greater than ninety-five in all the subjects. Judge me a little slower; I was devoid of friendship and books were the only things in which I found my solace. So, I drowned myself in every single one of the. I could not let loneliness get the best of me, and so I decided to study whole-heartedly.
My first encounter with novels was when I had bought myself the entire Twilight series of Stephanie Meyer. Judge me a little slower; I had no one to recommend me a book. So, I got myself literally anything that I could lay my hands on and I am not embarrassed about it.
I was both engineering and a medical aspirant. Judge me a little slower. My parents wanted me to either be a doctor or an engineer. I was fine with whatever they chose for me because I wasn’t very clear about my ambitions and I decided to let them make the call. A couple of years later, I got my admission into an engineering college.
I kicked a man in the groin in a train. Judge me a little slower. He was making lewd gestures at me and had even tried to feel me up. I couldn’t stand being someone’s plaything. So, I hit him.
My wardrobe is a mess of clothes, a majority of which are black. I have got two metallic fingers rings, one each on the middle finger and the ring finger of my right hand. Judge me a little slower. The ring finger on my right hand holds the ring whose identical twin sits on the ring finger of the right hand of my boyfriend. The ring on my middle finger sits on my hand as a reminder of my resolutions.
My playlist is a plethora of slow, romantic songs and romance movies hone the ‘Movies’ folder in my laptop. Judge me a little slower. I am a hopeless romantic and love, according to me, is the purest of all emotions.
Judgments don’t make or mar a person. I am not afraid of flaunting the scars that my experiences have donned me with, like a proud warrior flaunts his battle scars. The scars are my medals of honour and they have shaped me into what I am today. So, judge me a little slower because I would rather embrace my experiences than pretend to be someone I am not.
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