You know how people say, "Respect your elders"?Well, today I almost threw that proverb into a dustbin.
It started like a normal, boring Monday. The kind where your alarm rings and you spend five minutes staring at the ceiling, wondering if school is really necessary for survival. I dragged myself out of bed, did my routine "pretend to care" look in the mirror, and went off to school.
I should've known something would go wrong. The sky was too dull. My mum's "good morning" was too cheerful. Even the danfo driver didn't insult anyone on the road. It was suspiciously calm.
First period: English.Second period: Biology.Third period: the disaster.
Mrs. Olumide.
Now, if you don't know who that is — lucky you. Mrs. Olumide is the type of teacher who was probably born angry. Nobody has ever seen her smile. Her voice sounds like sandpaper, and she walks like she's ready to flog you with her eyes.
Anyway, she came into class today with that her black handbag of doom and started asking random questions about last week's notes. My plan was to keep my head down and avoid trouble like I always do.
But trouble came to find me.
"Amiya!"I felt my soul leave my body.
"Stand up!"
I stood, heart pounding so loudly I was sure the boy next to me could hear it.
"Tell me, what is the definition of social stratification?"
And just like that — blank. My brain, usually filled with random facts and unnecessary crush fantasies, went completely empty. I knew this definition last night. I even read it twice. But in that moment, all I could think about was Bryant's stupid smile.
"Ma… it's when… people… eh… social…"
"Is it your mouth you're scratching?" she snapped.
The class laughed.That ugly, painful kind of laughter that makes your ears hot and your eyes sting.I bit my lip, trying not to cry.
"You this one, you're always dull! You sit there doing nothing like a log of wood. Do you think your life will amount to anything like this? Look at you. Useless child."
Those words.They hurt more than any slap.They hit me in places I didn't even know existed.
In that moment, something inside me snapped. All the bottled-up sadness, loneliness, rejection — everything boiled over.
I wanted to scream.I wanted to shout back.I wanted to tell her how hard it's been. How I barely sleep because my head won't stop spinning with a thousand painful thoughts. How sometimes, the only reason I come to school is because sitting in an empty classroom feels better than lying in my room alone.
I wanted to say, "Do you even know me? Do you know what it's like to feel invisible? To be laughed at, ignored, and called useless like it's your name? I'm trying! I swear I'm trying, but it feels like nobody cares."
But I didn't say any of that.
I just stood there, staring at the floor while tears pricked my eyes. My hands were clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. I was shaking. Not from fear — from anger, from sadness, from being sick of everything.
The bell rang.Saved by the bell, literally.
She gave me one last glare and walked out. The class followed, still chuckling. No one asked if I was okay.
I waited until everyone left, then sat back down and cried. Not loud, just quiet, defeated tears. The kind you shed when you realize nobody's coming to save you.
Dear Diary,Today, a teacher called me useless.And I believed her for a second.I believed maybe I really am nothing.But then another voice — a small, shaky one in my chest — whispered, "You matter. Even if nobody sees it right now, you matter."
So I'll hold on to that tiny voice.Because it's all I have.
– Amiya