Dear Ms Anwesha
I know you don't know me, for I was merely a sixteen year old , just a junior who admired you and that the closest we ever got, was when I got to sit next to you to give my first weekend test at FIITJEE.
I loved your handwriting, I loved your name. I loved how you were slightly chubby, cute and beautiful all at once. I loved how you chose to have your hood on to escape the chills from the A.C that stunk. I loved how remote you looked, how cut off. You looked pretty fucked up, I must admit, and I realised that appealed to me when we crossed paths now and then.
I probably liked you so much, found you so intriguing and became a little fangirl of yours because I may have found myself in you, you know, we both were pretty messed up, we both walked streets thinking about-God knows what. We both didn't want to let go but were clueless as to what to hold onto.
I discovered you got kicked out of the best batch, just as I. I kept tracking your records, I do not know what had gotten upon me. I was probably trying to see what future held for me for I knew subconsciously that when I looked at you, I looked for myself.
You ruined JEE mains, you raised the bar tremendously in advance, literal 20k rank improvement. And you wouldn't know how proud I had been about you. There were countless times I quoted you to my friends and family. I was so incredibly proud of you.
Anwesha, when my time had come,I managed to pull off a similar feat , I would say even better. I tell you, I wasn't even half as much proud of myself of how proud I was of you. Why was it so? Tell me why I trusted my image more than I trusted myself?
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