High school.

Twenty-seven.

“Why were you so angry?”

“I just exploded. I had enough.”

“Enough of what?”

“The constant comparison to my older brother. He was in this school, too. Graduated last year.”

“And? Continue, please.”

“Most of the teachers keep comparing me to him. ‘oh, he did that better.’ ‘he got higher grades.’ ‘I knew you were his younger brother! How is he?’. That is just boring, to be quite honest. I’ve been taking that since the start of the year but I couldn’t’ take it anymore.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“I’m not my brother, I’m myself! I don’t care if he got higher grades than I did, or if he was more charming than I am, or if the teachers loved him more. I don’t care. So, I think they should keep their opinions to themselves.”

“Maybe they don’t mean it. They’re just trying to give you motive to be better.”

“Yeah, but does constantly comparing someone to someone else make them better? No, it just brings them down.”

“You are right.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“I am sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Sorry for myself. That I am just a big disappointment that can’t be good at anything. “

“Don’t say that. You must be good at something.”

“Well, it seems like nobody else thinks that. Excuse me.”

-

I am back, tell a friend.