“If you’re a student, maybe you shouldn’t read this. Not because it’s dark or hopeless — but because I don’t want you to feel the weight I’m carrying. Or maybe, I do want someone to feel it. Someone who gets it. Because I don’t think anyone around me really does.
It’s August. The coaching center had promised us big dreams back in January — 90% and above in Boards, and a JEE rank that would make our parents proud. That was the plan. Now, eight months later, I feel like I’m running toward a finish line that keeps getting further away, while my legs are giving up. I’m barely holding school and coaching together. And even with all that effort, I’m doing poorly in both.
I can’t drop school prep, because my school obsesses over Boards. The way they function, they make sure even good students don’t score well. It’s how they protect their “average” — I’ve heard it from more than one tuition teacher. But if I don’t focus on school, I fail there. If I do, I fall behind in coaching. Either way, I lose.
Meanwhile, my best friend — he’s brilliant. Doesn’t study half as much as the others, but tops everything. He’s not even trying to show off, he’s just… different. Naturally good at it. And when I look at him, I don’t just feel envy — I feel fear. Fear that one day he’ll be in a place I’ll never reach. And I’ll still be here, wondering why I couldn’t keep up.
No one says it out loud, but it’s always there — who wants to hang out with someone who’s struggling? People distance themselves. No one wants a friend who pulls down the average.
At home, it’s another kind of pressure. My father doesn’t yell all the time, but when he does, it sticks. He keeps count of the money spent, the marks missed, and the friends who did better. He says things like, “If I push you harder, you’ll do better,” but it doesn’t work that way. Being shouted at never made me try harder. It just made me feel smaller. Still, I can’t bring myself to fully blame him. I know he wants me to succeed — he just doesn’t know how to support me without breaking me down.
Sometimes, I wonder what it would’ve been like if they were just… a little more kind. A little more understanding. Maybe I would’ve believed in myself a little more.
Because I wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always lost. I used to have dreams. I loved cricket once. I gave it up at 11, thinking I wouldn’t make it. I still regret that decision. Not because I could’ve become some national player — but because that was the first time I told myself I wasn’t good enough. And I’ve been repeating that message ever since.
Now the coaching syllabus is flying past me. I can’t keep up. I can’t see IIT from here. All I see is the 4 lakh rupees my father spent, and this sinking feeling that I’m wasting it.
I don’t know who to blame — myself, my parents, or the system. I keep thinking it’s me. That I had hope, but no discipline. That maybe I never deserved it in the first place.
But it still hurts. Because dumb kids have dreams too. We want to feel proud. We want to do something with our lives. It’s just that, somewhere along the way, we stopped believing that we could.
Everyone keeps saying, “It’ll be okay.” But no one tells you that sometimes, it’s never the “okay” you hoped for. You don’t bounce back. You just learn to carry the regret.
I’m not asking for sympathy. I’m just tired. Tired of always having to prove that I’m not a failure. Tired of being compared. Tired of pretending I’m okay when I’m clearly not.
If someone — just one person — could sit with me and say, “I see you. You’re trying. And it’s not all your fault,” I think that would change something in me. Because I’m not lazy. I’m not ungrateful. I’m just exhausted. And I don’t want to run away forever. I just want a break — a quiet moment to breathe, to rest, to feel like I’m enough. Even if just for one day.”
— From an anonymous JEE aspirant
Editor’s Note
If this story resonates with you, know that you’re not alone. Your worth isn’t tied to a percentage, a rank, or someone else’s dreams. Feeling tired doesn’t make you a failure. Needing rest doesn’t mean you’re weak. You’re human — and that is enough.
If this story made something stir in you, here are a few gentle questions to sit with:
- Have you ever felt like you’re trying so hard, but still falling short in everyone’s eyes?
- What’s one part of yourself you’ve silenced because you thought it wasn’t “good enough”?
- If no one was watching, what would you truly want for your life?
You don’t need to have all the answers. Sometimes, just being honest with yourself is a powerful beginning. And as always, if you have a story to share — whether anonymously or with your name — we’re here to listen. Your voice matters.
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