The mind is a very powerful tool. It can be used to shape the most beautiful stories, the most sinful of fantasies and the scariest of nightmares. The mind is capable of destroying even the sturdiest of towers but it is also capable of building up the most resilient people.Grief, just like the mind, is a beauty disguised as a demon. When welcomed and nurtured, it leaves peacefully, offering its host the gift of closure and solace.But when ignored and left to its own devices, grief can turn even the sweetest memory into a bitter nightmare.Years later, when The Wrong Cinderella was behind me, my psychologist would teach me all these things.But right then, I was seventeen and oblivious to the fact that I hadn't all

It all happened so fast. Our first meeting, our first date and our first kiss: it all happened in the space of two weeks. And on top of it all: two near-death experiences in two days. I fell in love too quickly and when my heart broke, it happened so fast that I could barely feel it.At first, I was angry. I wanted to beat him up for lying to me; I wanted to see Ming face to face so that I could scream at her for taking away the only boy I had ever loved. I was angry at everyone: Jason, Ming, Jet and even myself.Then, after the initial shock wore off, I felt wounded: my heart felt as if it had shattered into billions of pieces and the only one who could fix me was him. I wanted to call him and beg him to come back and tell me that it was all a dream. I was willing to forgive him; I wanted to forget everything. I just needed hi

It felt like ages since I had last kissed him even though technically, it had only been two days. The thrill and slight nervousness that I felt during our first kiss was still there. I somehow knew as we kissed that it wouldn't be the last time. I loved him way too much to let him go. And judging by the way he forcefully kissed me back, he felt the same way.I barely registered the fact that the car had stopped or that the driver climbed out. All I could think of was him. Jason. I somehow found myself straddling his lap, my lips still connected to his. I barely cared about the fact that I was wearing a dress or that we were extremely exposed. The kiss was intimate but nowhere close to the burning heat that would entice us to remove our clothes. It was an intimate form of desperation, of pure need and adoration.He pulled away first. I s