To deal.

Adjusting into pre-adulthood and stepping out of post pubescent antics has taken its toll on me. Gradually adapting to this ambiance and slowly mastering the art of nonchalance, as petty tattles fails to pique my interests.  This place is embellished with greeneries, coupled by dead leaves carpeting the bricked walkways, one of its many charms. The sporadic spate of rainy days leaves you blanketed in its icy breeze glory,with puffs clouds hanging in the gray welkins. Days spent traipsing down the hill to the bus stop,often with another coming of age tunes soundtracking it, where my neatly pulled back jet black tresses sways in the wind became a norm. And later, only to find myself in a place awash with foreign faces, some adorning half simpers,others sporting blank stares and quickly averted eyes. To decide if its ideal or not is too premature. Maybe later. Maybe now i feel like one of those dessicated leaves.