DREAM & its Fantasists

I endure a dream every night. I discern a dream every night. Sometimes its you, sometimes it’s nothing. I feels its a dream only when I dream of you, I feel its a dream only when I’m with you. I still dream of us looking at the stars at every night’s third hour and I feel it our old selves sharing thoughts at exactly the same hour. Pointing at the stars and spotting our past selves there, but then I wake uo and realise- its only a dream. Its only a fantasy and we are its fantasists. Or maybe its just me. We were always meant to be together- that’s what my heart said, we’re not- that’s what my mind said. My heart and brain were pastly at a war, my heart saying its our Bosoms which deserve to be one. But no, its my broken soul giving a voice- ‘You’re too incapable of finding yourself some one else’. 

I believe, hearts are just meant to be broken… Hearts are meant to be buried. Burying us with itself, burying us with everything we emitted as love. Not because the one you loved is the only one responsible for abandoning, not because you wanted your story to die. Only because your story had to be contrasting. 


Our WRECKED Bosoms… (my wattpad book’s PROLOGUE :))

​Unknown’s journal entry:

April 21st, 2008

11:23 pm.

Sometimes I wonder, what life is? And the same minute I answer my self- Its a frisky play and we have to play it aptly. But my life right now, I feel my life’s screwed. Screwed in every darning way. I feel like every damn thing in this world has happened to me. I try making myself understand : Teenagers have survived their life through the ages and its not just me who has to suffer. I lost my friends. They betrayed. Like every other friend does. They did what I had never thought they would. They stopped maintaining contact. They started spreading rumours about me saying : That girl was a fucking Slut.

I’m not a girl who would sit alone at a corner crying and shedding tears, trying to figure out Why her friends betrayed and Why her boyfriend faked her. And she believes she has no one. But I have myself, and my family. The same people I hated days back for lying to me. 

You might be thinking this is just a normal thing a girl would experience in her high school but I have gone through alot. Each last day of mine I survived through all those thick and hards and now I’m out of all those shitty glares of people I’ve moved away from.

A month back my father came to me at an odd timing, I was committed to my studies. He sat beside me and broke down a news I was shocked to hear. We were getting transferred. Leaving Delhi forever and coming here – to DehraDun for the next few years. I never knew how could I even survive without people I already left. I was mad at dad that whole week, till I realised it was not something he did. And now, how lucky I feel flying​ Dehradun, living here with new people. Fifteen years of my life I spent in Delhi, wondering I would never meet people better than I met there. I was wrong. Regretting my words, I feel good here. 

Been so head ached by the story of my fourth teen year, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m a sixteen year old another teenage girl who has gone through all the teenage situations and life problems. Maybe more better situations than people actually go through :’) You may have known this by the ink above. But I know I’m brave. My family is beside me always. They have experienced this world, how bad thing this world turns out to be if you believe it blindly. I was so stupid. Not knowing how everyone around me was faking till the time I left that fucking place. I feel much better in these mountain valleys, my room’s window throwing so much of light that I regret, turning my back.

And two people I hate the most right now, and will preserve the hatred for them rest of my life : Vihaan Khurrana, now my so called ex boyfriend and Ashar, my ex best friend. 

How startlingly these two were feigning me. Every heck of my life and every second I shared with Ashar. Still believing him gave me nothing but dejection. And Vihaan, one of those most foremost persons in my life feigned me. How wonderful I thought my life was, having the most handsome people as my friends and the hulk of the school as my boyfriend. Girls had enough reasons to hate me. And hatred brought me here, far from the world full of fraudsters. 

Vihaan is one of those worst person​s I’ve met where I lived before and the worst person I will ever know again. The person who owes much hatred right now. We had such an understanding time together. Only if I knew he was a bastard, I would never have been in a relationship with him. I was never a relationship sort of girl. Well, I hated Couples. But when I felt infatuated towards this guy, it was probably the first time I felt something for someone. How excitedly I went up to him, in order to expect something back. And I did expect right. I got a reply from him. He already wanted me, and this was all I wanted. Everything was so happy like another Cinderella Story. But no. Forgetting the times I’ve spent with him and the time I left Delhi, he turned out to be a Jerk. An Effing Playboy Jerk. I never expected him to be such a person. But the fact is- no matter how well you know someone, everyone has got that hidden identity blinded by looks and acts. 


Wattpad : @snigdha_0110 🙂


Facebook.com/Snigdha Rohilla

A week or so back I got to know about a channel on YouTube saying “Button Poetry”. After watching some videos I came across this Poem by Blythe Baird with the title “When the fat girl becomes skinny”. I’ve been wanting to write something on this poem since I watched the video. 

There are a few books like Sick of being healthy by Monish Gumber and some other which tells us about the High school life of teenage girls. I watched the full video and then read some stories about these high school girls getting depressed about themselves being overweight, unhealthy, and those suffering from obesity. 

How is being Overweight and unhealthy related to a person who has fame, fans and people running after them? Talking about my own experience, I feel that I’m fat. I’ve had enough thoughts about this but alongside I realised something. If you have an image, there isn’t anyone who would chaff you and insult in front of public. You need to have an image of yours built before everyone and also, stop feeling complexed. Everyone is unique and those who really think being fat is a matter of choice, fuck their thoughts and pay least attention to what they say. You are you, and for others its their piece of Assignment. Don’t let these people bother you. Being fat isn’t a crime. Do all those girls who think they are pretty and have perfect curves and edges hold a good esteem? They don’t. There are guys who have some fat girls as their friend or the duff of a group, they would probably be shy or would feel bad admitting in front of everyone that they have the so called DuFF as their friend? Why? I’m talking to those guys, do you think people would judge you this way? Has the girl committed a crime being fat? No. But the society is shaped this way, saying that being fat is a Misdeed. 

To all the girls who feel complexed looking at the sluts of your school, they’re of no use. 

_Snigdha :’)


​And then suddenly I start thinking about a new topic for writing a Prose. Roads. These rough roads. Yes, I’m in love with these roads. The roads I’m walking on, the roads I’m traveling on. The roads I see from my car and roads I feel. With every passing movement of my bare feet and the wheels of my car, I feel another me. I look down at the road. I’m bare feet. I peep outside my car’s glass and I feel relieved. Relieved from the world. I feel the air brushing my face, brushing my body. With every passing second I feel the roughness I’m walking on. The only way to survive, to feel life. I see your beaming face, grin like a Cheshire cat. You’re beauty, you’re life. And life’s a propossessing thing, as pretty as a picture. I have a million reasons to live, and you had a zillion to leave me. My audio jack’s plugged and I don’t really care about the world giving a voice. I need not to sound wild and remind them about my existence. I’m happy, happier than I once was. Happier than I ever will be. And happier I could ever think I would be. Life’s a frisky play. Play it aptly. 

~Snigdha :v



Snigdha Rohilla/facebook.com

I love you, Stranger.

Can dreams never get real? Will I always yearn for it to be a reality when there’s nothing which can bring it to actuality? 

I dream of you every night. Are you written only in my dreams? I don’t know who you are, but yet I know a lot about you. You’re the one who caresses my cheeks when my eyes let a shower, unable to happily accept the fact that I have someone. You’re the one who jumps in the cold river with me and then plant your lips on mine and I frantically falling for you again. You’re the one with whom I share life and talk about it sitting on the roof top, adoring the stars and wondering we would be there in the sky together. We would die together. But our love wouldn’t. I don’t really know what I did to fall for you this crazily and finding you as my lover. I never knew about anyone to be insanely mad after me, yet being so solicitous. You promised to stay forever. But now all I’m yearning for is to bring this dream to actuality. I love you, stranger.

~Snigdha :”)

Picture stolen from : Pinterest. 

My Instagram page : @fantasist_and_scribler. 

The 11:11 Wish.

Then there was this time. At 11:11 I started inking the paper and never knew I would pen a 400 word thing with zillions of emotions I wanted to shower but couldn’t. This has always been my weakest this. I was a!ways afraid to face you in a person. Those Goosebumps I had while writing, were rare. The rarest. Everything couldn’t be penned down. My brain storming itself was the most furious thing that minute. The only reason I started at 11:11 was that the wishes get filled. Never knew mine ever could. I never drew hearts ending it, neither you did. Were you afraid too? Or it was only me who destroyed the tip of the pen after writing? Was it you who wrote me bleeding words with red? Why red? For me it symbolises DEATH. And why grey? It symbolises DISBELIEF & LONELINESS. I knew I had you. Was I still alone? Alone like another girl spending time by the coast? You were great in the time you spent with me. And then suddenly I start to think about life. Times. And love. The times which were content. The time which introduced me love, forgetting the person who taught me love. It was with my 11:11 wish which got into strewn pieces and no one came to hold them back.

~Snigdha :’)

#1 Review of “Everyone has a story” by Savi Sharma 

Hola, fellow bloggers! First post, eh? Yes! So, its my first post and as nothing exciting just happened in my life, so that I could make an interesting blog post, I decidefd to give the review of this Amazing book ‘Everyone has a story’ by an Indian author Savi Sharma. This was perhaps the first debut novel of  Savi which turned out to be a huge success. 

The story holds two main characters : Meera and Vivaan being the female and male protagonist respectively. Meera has always been influenced by writers and story tellers listening to them every weekend in a coffee shop. She was so greatly influenced, that she desired to pen her story. She wondered, how could some people (writers) be able to frame someone else’s life? How do they even create up their characters and their characteristics? One day, she meets this guy named Vivaan, the male protagonist. Everything he wanted in life was traveling. That was what he lived for. As Meera was in search of her story, she discovered herself penning about the traveler she met in the cafe. Time changes and they eventually turn out to be good friends. Unwittingly, Meera finds herself to befallen for  Vivaan but wasn’t really sure about his feeling towards her. 

One fine day when Meera finally decides to let everything out about her feelings, Vivaan is missing from the Town. As Meera and her friends discovered, he quit his job and flew to travel. He escaped. Yet, again. Meera was shattered. With time, she gathered her strewn feelings and eventually turns herself to a happy person. She had her friends to keep her and provide her with everything one could have asked for. Days later, Meera gets back to her story and decides to Publish it.

One the other hand Vivaan was confused. He knew he loved Meera but the same case as in, was not sure about her feelings towards him. Two Cross’d lovers : maybe fate was challenging them. Vivaan traveled everywhere he wanted to and finally realized he should return back to India. Return back to Meera , he thought. 

This is how the two cross’d lovers met. In the end, the confessed and feeling was mutual. This is what Fate wanted!. Meera turns out to be a published author soon, having Vivaan as hers. 

The story is inspiring in every way! A must read for every book lover and yes, its not at all cliché. 


~Snigdha :v


Hello, fellow WordPress users! My name is Snigdha and I’m an immature teenage scribbler. Well, right now I ain’t sure whether I can tag myself as a writer, a poet or an ordinary person writing about random things that hit my brain at very point. I ain’t sure how good my English is actually as it has never been and is not my first language either. Having a good hand at writing English isn’t actually a scribbler’s thing. I mean like, you don’t have to be a professional to tell a story. Everyone’s a story teller. The only difference we find is that, some find it difficult to narrate in OTHER’S language. Anyways, its going too far from my description :P. I am a person who strongly believes in love, though I haven’t experienced it yet. Well, Nothing! I cannot just sacrifice my sleeps and be an inomniac person :/ Nope, but seriously. My sleep is more important than every other thing in my life. Rather than experiencing things in reality, which will take you nowhere; dream! That’s the best one can do for himself. And then if you believe in yourself, there’s no one driving you away from it.

Food is something I live for. It gives me happiness ;P. There isn’t anything that gives me more happiness than sleeping, eating and writing. Writing, yes! First thing you must’ve found sensible in the past few sentences. I love reading in my free hours. Mystery, Chicklit, drama, humor, fanfictions and ScienceFictions are the genres I adore. Apart from this, I hate cliche’, romance and werewolf genres. I don’t know but I just hate them.

Watching American TV series is my piece of owning Pizza. AND, oh yeah! I love Pizza! What I want my life to be : Watch latest series all day + Coffee + Pizza later + Doodling = Perfect COMBO ;D

I love listening to english songs, more than songs that belong to my own language. Martin Garrix, Charlie Puth and Daft Punk are loves ❤

I had thought to make this a very quick introduction of myself as its the start to my Blog! I know I created this a while back but hadn’t posted anything anytime. So this is a fresh. I hope you’ll definately love the posts I create and would make a deserving place for myself in this Site.


~Snigdha :v