Essay · 07 / 08 · Edition 01

Which is weird

ten years, one girl, and everything that quietly changed

By Ashwika Tripathi · Sep 2026 · 2 min read

Which is weird.

I've started having lunch alone at school. Just me, the stairs, and Mom's pasta despite the school being so crowded; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago would not be able to finish her tiffin because she was too busy chit-chatting.

I've started staying silent when I disagree to protect my peace; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago expressed every emotion loudly enough for the room to hear it.

I've started listening to Kishore Kumar's songs; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago would call them painfully slow and boring and doze off to sleep.

I've started looking outside the window; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago would find it rather monotonous.

I've started acknowledging people's backgrounds and their struggles; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago would simply say that everyone's life is difficult and move on.

I've started having a social battery which drains out; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago loved being around people.

I've started keeping things to myself; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago would open up to a person she met five minutes ago in the mall.

I've started saying no to invites; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago would say yes to every opportunity which allowed her to socialise.

I've started writing about feelings; which is weird because the girl I knew 10 years ago only knew the emotions of joy and anger.

What is weird is some people still see her when they meet me. She still laughs too loudly sometimes. She still says yes when she should probably say no. She still gets excited over the smallest things.

But somewhere between then and now, she learned that being understood is different from being known, that peace is different from silence, and that growing up isn't becoming someone new.