I find it really interesting that whatever is going on in my mind is known to only me and not any single being, any single cell in this vast universe. Whatever I think, whatever my thoughts are, they are utterly invulnerable and no one can seize those thoughts from me, unless I want to share them. Isn't it exciting that those thoughts, those feelings cannot be set free, cannot be hacked by any computer system and displayed to the others?

    This fact is true for every human being in this world and we all are absolutely aware of it. You could just lie to someone and only you would know that it was a lie. Then I don't really get it that how on earth can you trust someone?

     How could someone be like "oh yeah, maybe I could trust this person. Let's be friends!"? And BAM! Now, they both think that the other person is faithful and no one knows the truth. Call me paranoiac or realistic but anyway, I can't figure this out. And it seems like this is just another reason why I don't have any "best friends" and why I find "life" perplexing. On the top of that, I don't know what the hell I am going to do in this new place.

     Well, after 16 long years of satisfactory living with my parents, fate had finally decided to test me on a venture of living alone (or maybe if the odds are not in my favor, then with a drug-addict roommate) at a new place which will soon become my home - "The Blue Valley High School." This was still bittersweet for me. Because I believe that we should start living our life all over again at some point of our life with an oblivious past years and a new beginning. And that's what I was exactly doing. But what if I don't make any friends in school or what if they bully me? Well, the possibilities are endless. All I can do is overthink about it; just what I was doing for the past three hours.

    It usually takes 7 hours to reach San Antonio from Oklahoma but I am pretty sure it would take way too long for us to reach there by my dad's so-called love, his tedious-paced black Audi car. Though, we had not even reached there, I was already missing our pretty little house among the daylilies and luscious green creepers. I glanced out of the window to gaze at the dawn sky (my favourite thing to do other than reading.) The shapeless clouds flashed a tint of red, betokening the presence of the sun still in the sky. A couple of horses in a fenced field, almost 5 feet away from us, distracted me from the sky. The lot was grazing; their silky, brown mane waving in the direction of the wind; one's big glistening eyes stuck on our car. How beautiful! I always wanted to have a horse as a pet. But according to my dad, we were "poor."

"Dad, when will we reach the hostel?"

"Just half an hour and then we're there!" he replied with his eyes steady on the road.

"This journey is pretty tiresome, isn't it?" mom said, facing her tired yet beautiful, speckled face towards me.

     Now let me introduce you to these two wonderful people who were basically my lifeline. My dad, Mark Jordan and my mom, Amelia Rose were undoubtedly the best parents anyone could ever have. Like every other guardian, these two too gifted me the unconditional love I needed but what was most striking about them was that they were so in love with each other, like for real. Most of my friends back in Oklahoma had divorced parents or they are always fighting but these two, they never fought or let go of each other, no matter what. Apparently, when they were young, dad had saved mom from fire, so maybe it had to be this way. Tall, slim, fair, coal-black eyes and wavy brown hair, who wouldn't fall in love with such a beautiful woman?

    That reminds me of my love life. Guess what, I don't have one! Unlike girls of my age, I never had a boyfriend. I never fell in love, in the first place. Yes, I had crushes but they were just "crushes". Maybe, I was too busy falling in love with fictional characters like Augustus Waters and Peeta Mellark that I never met a real one. Well, you never know, love can happen at the strangest of times.

    At around 7 in the evening, we arrived at the crowded campus full of indistinct chatters. We asked my room number to a blonde lady at the office who answered with "Room number 108" and a key. Mom and dad helped me with my luggage and after climbing 16 steps (yes, I don't know why, but I counted them) we reached my room. I pushed forth the creaky blue door to unveil a quite well-maintained room with pale yellow walls, two separate beds, two study tables, a wooden cupboard and no sign of human interaction; which clearly indicates that my roommate has not yet arrived or if I am utterly lucky, I don't have a roommate. Oh, how relieving it would be if I won't have anyone to bother me while I get sunk in my favourite novel! But before all that, I had to handle a very different situation - the most melodramatic part of staying away from your parents, that is, the last-minute kisses and them crying and saying how proud they are to have a kid like you and blah blah blah. It is not that I don't like that stuff, it's just that I am not a pro at showing my real feelings.

     As they left, I dragged my luggage into the room and plunged into the warm cozy bed to drain off my tiredness. My eyes trailed off from my black sneakers to the seam lines of my jeans to the walls. It looked freshly painted and the weirdly tempting, faint smell of paint filled my nose and blossomed my mind. It led me to a glimpse of how I'll be leaving alone in this room - no one to talk to; no one to have group study with; no one to share secrets with. But unlike others, I loved solitude and that's what I sought every day. That was probably the only state where I found peace, the only state where I could truly be me. The one drawback of my thus nature was elimination of the only chance I had to befriend someone. But the feeling of aloneness was worth it. While I was lost in myself, a sudden knock on the door pulled me into the reality.

"Ugh, it must be my roommate." I thought. I stood up from my bed and walked to the door. In those five seconds, I was practicing my "hey" to her. Pulling the doorknob, surprisingly revealed not a roommate but a 60(ish) year old plump, short woman with rimmed spectacles and a wide smile disclosing her yellow teeth.

"Hello, child!" she said "I'm Samantha, the warden of this hostel. The Principal wanted to let the students know that classes will start tomorrow at 7:30 am sharp, okay?"

Her squealing baby-like voice did not match with her appearance at all. But she had an absolute British accent which made me like her a little bit.

"Oh, okay. Thank you." I said.

"You are welcome, my dear." she started leaving.

"Wait a minute. Actually, I wanted to know if I'd have a roommate or not."

"Oh child, I don't know about that but you could go check out that list on the red bulletin board downstairs and you'll come to know about your roommate."

"Sure, thank you."

"Have a good night, sweetheart." she gave a wide smile again and turned around to leave.

    I always thought that wardens of hostels are strict, rude and ugly but Samantha turned out to be really sweet. Maybe that's how it is, some people are not at all like how you think they are and sometimes it is all about perspective.

   Due to my sheer laziness, I didn't check the list downstairs. Rather, I ate a chocolate donut my mom had packed, set an alarm for 6:30 and laid my fragile body under the soft, warm blanket. Fortunately, I quickly fell asleep.