Angst stories

M

My brother always had good grades. He had never once gotten a grade lower than a B. He was a straight A student, earning all the praise from my parents. They were so proud of him. Me? I was not very good with my grades. I always had Bs and Cs, sometimes a D. In rare cases, I would get an A. But there were never more than 2 As appearing in my report card. Some people may find that it's actually pretty good, considering I don't have Fs, but compared to my brother, I was nothing.

I remember the first day this happened. I had gotten an A, while the rest were Bs. I knew that it was not as good as my brother's, but I had thought that at least my parents would praise me, cheer me on. I peeked out from behind the door, seeing my parents smiling cheerfully and complimenting my brother on the straight As he had. As I walked in the room, I was thinking about the happy look I thought my parents would have as I showed them my report card. But when I handed it to them, the friendly smiles on their faces turned to looks of disappointment. They said nothing, just shoved it back into my arms, and walked out of the room.

That night, I was locked in my own room, forced to study as my parents and brother went to celebrate.

Few years later I found myself falling in love with a guy. At first it was only admiration. I admired all the good grades he had, and wanted to be like him. But as time flew by, I wanted to be with him. So I asked him out, and he said yes. The feeling of joy I felt at that moment was indescribable.

Few months after we started dating I decided to tell him about it. I told him about how I felt as if I would never be good enough for my family, how I would never be as good as my brother. And he said to me the words I wanted to hear for so many years.

"You shouldn't care about what they say, so what if your grades aren't as good at your brother's? You are you, with your own unique talents. And that's why I love you."

But not long after that I found myself still studying as hard as I used to. Though his words continue lingering in my mind. I wasn't getting enough sleep, and I kept falling asleep during class, which resulted in me getting worse grades, and studying even harder. In the end I would go to bed at 4 in the morning, and wake up at 6 in the morning.

But on the day of a big test, I stayed up the whole night, not catching even a minute of sleep. I thought that it was worth it, because I had gotten the top 5 in the level. But when my parents saw my report card, they did the same thing again. Shove it back into my hands and went out of the room. I asked why and they just replied that I should've gotten 1st. At that moment I knew that I would never be enough, until I was as good as my brother.

I cried so much that night. My eyes were bloodshot and swollen, my hair a mess and my breathing unstable. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it on my own, so I asked my boyfriend if he could meet up, which he agreed to.

We met at the park and I started telling him about everything that was on my mind. But as I talked to him, he seemed to be preoccupied. As if he wasn't paying attention to me at all. When I called back for his attention, he gave me this look of annoyance I have never seen before.

"Why do you look so messed up? You don't even study that hard. If you really want to get good grades then you should study harder. It's not that hard."

I have never felt so betrayed in my life. The guy, who supported me through all this, told me to be myself and not overwork. Was in front of me, telling me to work harder. Didn't he know I was already not getting enough sleep? Was my dark under eye circles not visible to him? Could he not tell from my raspy voice how much I have been crying and screaming in my room while my family was out celebrating? The person I thought understood me the most turned out to be like everyone else.

Maybe everyone is right. Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough. Maybe I was just born to be this failure. This disappointment. This nothing.

I didn't bother swallowing the lump that formed in my throat. I just turned away and walked home. There was no point in arguing with him. After all, he was right.

After that day I stopped eating properly. My lips were getting chapped, my throat was dry and my voice sounded scratchy. I was getting thinner and thinner, but at that point in time I never cared. I was too caught up in trying my best to get better grades. Trying my best to be like my brother. To be like the love of my life. My hands were so sore from writing so hard on my papers. My room was a mess, textbooks and papers scattered everywhere. But I didn't care. Of course I didn't. My world revolved around my grades and I had the mindset that everyone around me would leave if I didn't get all As.

I wore baggy clothes out in public, to hide the ribcages that were poking at my skin. My hair was slowly falling out, and my weight decreased incredibly. But no one ever reached out. No one cared. Everyone just walked by as if I was invisible. My friends that used to always ask me out for lunch gave up and left, now leaving me with nothing but strangers. My home doesn't feel like home. It feels like an empty hall of nothing but pain. I was drowning in my thoughts and could see nothing but black around me. I had more and more frequent panic attacks from all the dark thoughts eating me from the inside.

I felt like nothing.

Eventually the panic attacks took a tole on me, and I fainted on the way home from school. I woke up in a clean white room, immediately recognising it as a hospital. I couldn't think straight. I felt the world around me spinning, and incredible pain in my head. But still, the dark thoughts kept coming. I was scared at how much money would be wasted on me from the hospital bill, and I wanted to apologise.

But as I sat up and looked around me, there was no one. Just white walls and empty chairs. I knew this was going to happen but I still felt that stab in my heart I knew all too well. The glimmer of hope in my heart that someone cared burned into ashes, leaving a hole in my heart. I laid back down onto the white sheets, and breathed calmly, trying hard not to cry as tears brimmed my eyes.

The beeping of the heart monitor was distant, and I felt as if I was clinging on to my life. I didn't want to die. I wanted to at least show everyone that I could succeed too. I wanted to be complimented. I wanted my parents to be proud of me. I wanted him to take me back. To hug me tightly and never let go. I wanted to live.

But I guess I failed at that too.