"Honk honk!"
"Come on, guys, let's ride that one!"
"No, I don't want to. Let's play house!"
"Noooo, that's girl stuff!"
Children's voices filled the park — a mixture of laughter and playful arguments — blending with the distant hum of car horns and the occasional chirp of birds. The warm afternoon sun bathed the scene in a golden glow, casting long shadows on the well-worn paths, while the scent of fresh grass mingled with the faint aroma of food from nearby vendors.
Amidst the lively chaos, a young man — about eighteen years old — sat alone on a bench tucked away in a quieter corner, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. His fingers trembled slightly, though his posture remained stiff, as if the weight of the world was settling on his shoulders.
He watched the crowd with tired, distant eyes — eyes heavy with untold stories of regret, longing, and silent battles. The laughter and shouts around him felt like echoes from a world he no longer belonged to, a world that had raced ahead while he sat behind, gathering dust.
The breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, a soft, almost soothing sound. Yet, for him, the movement felt like an intrusion, as if the world was moving on without him, too quickly, too carelessly. His skin prickled with the faint touch of the wind, but the sensation felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.
For the first time in a long while, there were no exams looming, no schedules to chase — and yet, instead of feeling free, he felt utterly lost.
Alone on the park bench, under the fading afternoon sun, he quietly wondered:Where do I even begin again?
At the start of my gap year, I truly believed I could do it.I studied hard, hidden away from the world.Among the younger students, I felt insecure — studying the same material again, with no friends to lean on.I was fighting a lonely battle.
Even my parents weren't really on my side.They claimed to support me, yet their eyes betrayed them — staring at my weekly test scores, which were average at best, like silent accusations.Despite their words of encouragement, every glance seemed to ask the same unspoken question:Why are your marks so low? Even lower than students younger than you?
I had no words to defend myself.
What could I have said?That during my first year of higher secondary education, I understood nothing?That the pandemic had forced everything online, and in every corner, distractions pulled me away?That without proper classes or the chance to ask doubts, I lost interest in subjects I couldn't grasp?
And then, when the pandemic ended, they suddenly shifted back to offline classes — expecting us to keep up as if nothing had happened.I remember staring blankly at the second-year chapters, feeling lost, thinking:Maybe I should first understand the basics from first year before attempting this.
Trying to rebuild everything from scratch while everyone else sped ahead.
I wanted to clear my backlog first, to catch up with everyone — but those damn weekly tests, with new chapters every week in every subject, hardly gave me the chance to breathe.If I didn't keep up with the current chapters, my marks would drop even lower.So I abandoned the thought of clearing the backlog and just focused on what would appear in the next exam — just to survive, just to stay average.
And even then, it was hard.
The syllabus for the tests would be updated randomly — some weeks on Wednesday, some on Friday.I was like, What the hell?
Every time I thought I had a grasp on the material, something new would throw me off. It was like trying to swim in a sea that kept pulling me under, no matter how hard I paddled. I couldn't even catch my breath before another wave hit.
But then, after months of struggling, I finally got a score of 80 out of 100 — third rank. At first, I was on cloud nine. My parents were all smiles, saying, "That's it, just do it like this. Keep it up."I felt happy, thought maybe I could just focus a little more, and I could do it. Hearing their praise made me feel… seen, even if just for a moment.
Yet, then came the next words. They asked, "You could maintain these marks, right?" Just that simple question — one I should have been confident to answer — sent a chill down my spine. Something in me cracked, and I didn't get it at the time, but I felt it.
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A.N); Words of wisdom from this kind author,
{In life, we always stand at a crossroads: either we silently endure whatever comes our way, accepting circumstances as they are, or we rise, take responsibility, and shape our own destiny. The first path demands patience, but often at the cost of our dreams. The second demands courage, but gifts us the power to transform our reality. The choice is ours — to live as mere spectators or as authors of our own story.}