Date: February 21
I woke up feeling like my bones didn't want to move.
Not from laziness. Not from sleep.
Just that heavy kind of tiredness that sits on your chest like a second heartbeat.
I still got up. Brushed my teeth. Studied two chapters.
Solved three problems from yesterday's mock.
Wrote everything down in that same old notebook, the one I tape back together every month.
But something felt... off today.
Maybe it's because no one said a word to me all day unless it was to point out something I did wrong.
"Why didn't you bring water for your mother?"
"Didn't I tell you to talk to Sharma Ji's son and be more like him?"
"Fix your posture. You look like a failure."
I didn't argue.
I just nodded. Like always.
I'm so used to it now, I don't even flinch. But tonight, something broke inside.
Around 11 PM, I sat on the floor with my books open in front of me and my pen in my hand.
And I stared at the page for 20 minutes straight.
I wasn't thinking.
I wasn't sleeping.
I wasn't crying.
I was just… sitting.
It felt like my brain forgot how to function. Like it ran out of reasons to pretend today.
I think I just want someone—anyone—to notice that I'm trying.
I don't need praise. I don't even need love.
Just one person to say,
"You're doing okay."
But no one says that here.
They only speak when you fail.
Or when you succeed just enough for them to expect more.
I thought of messaging a classmate. But then I imagined the reply being dry. Or worse, no reply at all.
So I didn't.
I thought of going outside for a walk. But I remembered how loud the street gets and how many people stare at you like you don't belong there either.
So I stayed in.
I'm tired.
But I'll still wake up early tomorrow.
Maybe it gets better. Maybe it doesn't.
But if I stop now, I'll never know.
End of entry.
– M.