As a wannabe writer, I have my own aspirations, As a student, I have to complete my academic tasks on deadline, As a daughter, I have to keep up with the expectations of my family, As a friend I have to be congenial, understanding and optimistic…The truth , however, is an antithesis; I barely complete my tasks on deadline, I barely fulfill the expectations of my family, I barely am congenial, understanding and optimistic when it comes to friends and I barely work on my aspirations. I dreamed today of a serene world, pristine bubbling water of springs, dazzling golden glitter of the Sun, a sonorous ambiance, no busy cares..it appeared as if the very garment of universe was knitted in blissfulness. I can’t even explain the loveliness of the tableaux. It was beautiful but then I woke up to realize that I was late for my daily chores. Reluctantly, I woke up, to see a different world, a world of blank stares, a world of monotony, a world where every person I came across was cocooned and thrived in that li’l universe of his own which disallowed any trespassers…like me. I lumbered, in heavy steps, dressed up neatly and opened my Facebook account. There were four notifications out of which only one was of my concern. I opened it to see the replies to my previous post which went like this, “What should people do if they have nobody to share their feelings with?” There were three likes (of my batch-mates) and four answers. Before moving ahead with the type of replies, I had to go through, it would be worth mentioning that a pretty girl gets spurious attention upon posting stuff like this. However, of all the four answers, not even one moved me. The answers go like this, “Visit page, seven cups of Tea”; “Post on Facebook”, “Keep it to yourself”; “Share with parents”; an interesting thing being all of these were my juniors who barely knew me. The night before, insipid thoughts, foul carcasses of the recent events, had resurfaced and I considered it a matter of urgency to purge it off. Since, I have no friends, I, was impulsively moved to share the crass on Facebook, like I do every now and then; this time I twisted it a bit and put it as an indirect question aimed at a few who would exert their willingness to help me. I feel now, as if I had gone too far with my sentiments, pouring ’em pathetically over Facebook, as if one, if not two would be generous enough to listen to me. It was an unforgettable lesson for me. I chose to stop pouring my feelings on social media that function on virtual reality. I chose to befriend myself and prefer my own counsel to the variegated opinions of others. I chose to stop comparing and mull over the incidents long gone. I chose to give a creative outlet to my emotions. I chose a transformation.