Dear Daughter

Dear Daughter Part 4

While the Arya Stark in me was happy to be going back home, the rest of me shivered with anxiety. I didn't know what was waiting for me down here. But standing in my old room, I knew it was quite late to be worrying about whether it was the right decision to make. Taramma left the room and closed the door behind her.

It was still only around 5.30. I had no idea what to do. So, I came up with one of the best solutions I've ever had to each one of my problems ever since I officially turned into an adult - sleep. Sleep was the Neverland to my Peter Pan. My constant denial to reality. Why wouldn't it be? Who wouldn't want to just  teleport (sorta?) to a world where you can be whatever you want to be! One moment, you could be flying over the clouds, and in the very next, you could be swimming the deepest of oceans. Yes, I know I'm pretty over-dramatic that way. But you get my point. 

Dreams are the only place where you're allowed to be whatever you wish to be. Zero pressure and full points for imagination. I rolled into the bed and curled up in a blanket. It felt nice. The familiar feel of the walls that were painted a different shade of blue from the one I'd chosen before. I wasn't disappointed though. It was much better. One would think my state of mind wouldn't let me get enough sleep. One would be wrong.

I sleep for longer hours at times of crises. All the caffeine in world would fail miserably in keeping me up. I remembered the days when I used to have my exams. My parents would take turns every night to get me a nice, hot cup of tea to keep me up so I could study well. The caffeine lover in me would be utterly excited at the thought. 

At 11, when my dad or mom would enter in with a cup, I swear I'd be the most determined person there ever was. At 11.15, when I've gulped down the entire contents of the cup, my mind would start playing games. My parents would be asleep in their room already by 11.30. And my eyes would start making plans of their own. It's a tough existence when you're simultaneously a caffeine-addict and a clinomaniac. 

I remember one night in particular when I was fighting my sleep. My biology books weren't helping me what will all the plant nomenclature. I didn't know when I had fallen asleep until a woke up after a bang on my head. It was my dad, shocked at the sight of his daughter dozing off right after refreshing herself with some energizing tea. That night was probably the longest I've stayed up because of the look my father had on his face. I had managed to annoy him and crack him up at the same instant.

Comforted by the warmth of the blanket, once again, my eyes gave in. A short nap, I told myself. I knew I was lying.