I Was a Ticking Time Bomb in My Adolescence, Eventually Something Exploded

We grew up together in chaos. One of us didn’t make it out

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The scars of that time never really leave. I’m in my thirties now, but the echoes of adolescence still ring out on some days. That period shaped me — and the loss of someone I grew up with remains a hollow ache I live with.

It’s a strange phase for everyone, but mine wasn’t just strange. It was chaotic. I wasn’t trying to grow up. I was trying to disappear. I felt like a live wire — wired for explosion, primed for damage, always seconds away from going off. Especially when I least expected it.

Nothing around me made sense. Not my family, not the world, not the forced warmth of Indian social niceties. We were supposed to love one another, yet all I remember is fighting. I was too much for my parents. Honestly, I was too much for anyone.

The boys I grew up with

I grew up around two boys — Rinku and Pappi. Their father worked with mine. We were like a packaged deal. They were older, rowdier, and always a little wild. They’d pull my hair, toss my dolls around, and laugh when I cried. I hated playing with them but couldn’t bring myself to dislike them.