Hi, my name is Taher. I turned four this year. I live in a small country in Asia. Let's not talk about which country—it probably wouldn't matter to you anyway.
I live with my father and mother. We're a small family. I do have relatives—uncles, aunts, cousins—but they don't live with us. Sometimes, we visit them, though the relationship between them and my parents isn't exactly warm. There's history there, but I was too young to understand. All I knew was that we didn't visit often, and when we did, the air felt heavy.
We weren't rich. Not poor, either. Just... somewhere in the middle. We survived. We ate. We slept under a roof. And that was enough, at least back then.
---
Two years passed.
I still remember my first day of school. I had no idea what to expect. There was no grand entrance, no excitement. I just walked into a room full of strangers and sat at my desk.
Nobody paid much attention to me. I wasn't one of the cool kids, or the cute ones who instantly made friends. I was just… there. But I was okay with that. I didn't want to stand out. I just wanted to learn. Or maybe I didn't even know what I wanted—I just followed the flow.
And yet, something inside me changed when I started doing well in class. I studied hard, harder than most. And when the annual exams came, I topped them. First place. Everyone noticed.
They looked at me differently now. The teachers praised me. My classmates respected me. I had become someone. That feeling—it was addictive.
I liked being number one. I liked proving myself. I liked that people finally saw me.
And maybe, just maybe, I became arrogant.
---
Eight years later…
That little bubble I lived in? It burst.
By then, I had seen the real world, or at least glimpses of it. I learned that no matter how hard I worked, there were people out there who could do in one hour what I struggled with for a week. They were geniuses. Some of them barely studied and still scored higher than me. I burned the midnight oil, but they shined effortlessly.
And it hurt.
I wasn't angry at them. It wasn't jealousy. I just felt small.
I kept going. I kept trying. But my parents—they wanted more. They wanted me to be the topper again. My father would ask, "What happened to the old you?" My mother would say, "We sacrificed everything for you."
I wanted to scream, "I'm trying!"
But no one listens when you're not at the top.
I tried asking the toppers for help. They laughed it off, gave vague answers, or ignored me. Maybe they were scared I'd catch up. Maybe they just didn't care.
Private coaching was out of the question. We couldn't afford it. I tried watching free videos online, tried every trick I could find—but nothing worked.
And then came COVID.
---
The world shut down. So did I.
School became online. But for me, it just stopped existing. I stopped studying. Instead, I started living in a different cycle:
Wake up. Watch TV. Read manga. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
I became lazy. I lost all motivation. I became... a loser.
One day, my father looked at me with disgust in his eyes and said, "Useless son. You're just wasting my money."
My mother added, "Without money, you are nothing in this world. Nothing."
She said more, but I won't tell you those words. They still hurt too much.
And maybe they were right.
I didn't understand why I hated studying now. But I knew one thing—in today's world, if you're not educated, you're invisible. Worse than invisible. You're worthless.
I never became the topper again. I became a normal student. One of the many faces in the crowd.
---
Now let me tell you a secret.
There was a girl.
Her name was Sia.
I had known her since the first day of school. She was kind, smart, and had a smile that could light up a room. Everyone liked her. So did I.
But I never spoke to her. Not once. I didn't have the courage. I told myself I wasn't good enough. Maybe if I was still the topper, I would've had a chance. Maybe not.
I think I had an inferiority complex, even back then. I told myself: If I do well in this final exam, maybe I can go to the same college as her.
But I didn't do well.
She got into one of the best colleges in the country. I didn't even get close.
In my country, if you don't get into a good college, people don't just ignore you—they humiliate you. Friends, relatives, neighbors—everyone mocks you.
And I was mocked.
But I didn't quit. I kept trying. Life wasn't a movie, though. There was no miracle. No sudden brilliance. Just me, dragging myself forward.
---
When I turned 20…
I got into a university. Not a great one, not a bad one. Just average—like me.
One day, I opened Facebook and saw something that shattered me.
Sia was getting married.
To the country's youngest millionaire. He was a doctor, too.
I looked at her wedding photos. She looked beautiful—like a dream I could never reach.
And I realized: she was never mine. Maybe she never even noticed me. Maybe I was just another background character in her perfect story.
I played a sad song and sat in silence.
Then I asked myself: What should I give her as a wedding gift?
It sounds crazy, right? But I just wanted to see her one last time. Just once.
At 2 a.m., I started my old, second-hand bike. My chest hurt. Not physically—emotionally. But maybe it was both. I didn't know. I didn't care.
---
Two days later…
I stood outside a grand wedding hall, wearing a black suit. In my hands was a small bouquet of flowers.
I stood there for hours, watching people go in and out, laughing and smiling. I didn't go inside.
I left the bouquet at the entrance, with my name on the card.
Then I went home.
That night, I took a few sleeping pills. Not too many—just enough to forget. To rest.
But what I didn't know...
Was that I would never wake up again.