Confession of a 19-Year-Old Indian Girl

I don’t know how to begin. But I need to say this. Maybe to feel lighter. Maybe to just see my words in front of me.

I am 19. Not a child. Not really an adult. Somewhere in between. And it’s confusing.

People expect me to know things. To make decisions. About my future. About my career. About life. But honestly, I don’t know. I act like I do. But I don’t.

Some days, I feel like I can take on the world. Other days, I don’t even want to leave my bed.

Parents say they understand. But do they really? I love them. I do. But sometimes, it feels like they see the version of me they want. Not who I actually am.

Society tells me how to be a “good girl.” Don’t talk too loud. Don’t laugh too much. Don’t stay out late. Don’t wear this. Don’t do that. I try to listen. But I also want to live. I want to be free.

Relationships are another mess. My friends talk about love and romance like it’s a fairytale. But I don’t know if I believe in all that. I see people change. I see lies. I see heartbreak. And I wonder, is love even real? Or just an illusion we chase?

Then there’s my body. My looks. Every time I scroll through Instagram, I feel like I am not enough. Not pretty enough. Not skinny enough. Not confident enough.

But I try. I try to love myself. Some days, I do. Some days, I don’t.

I wish people talked more about these things. The real things. Not just marks and marriage and money.

I don’t have answers. But I have questions. So many questions. And I hope, someday, I figure it out.

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