November 6, 2025
Yesterday, I felt like a complete failure. Not in the dramatic, cinematic way people sometimes exaggeratebut in that quiet, gnawing kind of failure that settles into your bones and makes every breath feel heavier than the last. But today… today I feel a little better. Just a little. Enough to keep moving, at least. It's strange how life works like thathow the weight that crushed you one day can feel slightly less unbearable the next, even if nothing has really changed.
Today, we calculated the class attendance. As Class Representative, it's one of my duties, and I take it seriouslyeven when it hurts. Seeing the numbers laid out, stark and unforgiving, was hard. Some of my classmates had attendance below the required minimum. And instead of accepting responsibility or reflecting on their own choices, they came to menot as peers, but with pleading eyes and soft voices, asking me to adjust the numbers. "Just this once," they said. "We're friends, right?"
I wanted to say yes, I wanted to. I've always wanted to be kind, to help, to be the person others can lean on. But being CR isn't just about friendshipit's about fairness, integrity, and the system we're all trapped in. If I bend the rules for one, I betray the structure that, however flawed, is meant to keep things just. And so I said no. Politely, quietly, firmly. And in doing so, I felt like I lost a piece of myselfthe part that believed kindness could coexist with duty without consequence.
Afterward, the guilt settled in. Not because I did something wrong, but because I cared too much. They're angry now. Some have already started talkingspreading words about me behind my back, calling me heartless or self-righteous. The irony? Those same people used to sit with me, laugh with me, call me "bro." Now, I'm just the CRuseful only when I serve their interests. The moment I uphold a boundary, I'm no longer a friend. Just a function. A role.
It made me think about how cruel the world really is. How cold. How it demands your best while offering you nothing in return. How it discards people the second they stop being convenient. And honestlypart of me has wanted to end it all because of that. Because it feels like no matter how hard you try, how much you sacrifice, how deeply you care… it's never enough. The world doesn't care if you're exhausted. It doesn't notice your silent suffering. It just keeps spinning, indifferent.
But today, something unusual happened. After all thatthe guilt, the betrayal, the emotional weightI went home… and I slept. Not at 2 a.m. after hours of tossing and turning with pains in my body and chaos in my mind. No, I actually lay down early and drifted off. That's… suspicious. I never sleep early. My nights are usually long battlessnacks, modded games, cool water bottles pressed to my forehead, trying to outrun the thoughts that won't let me rest. So why tonight? Maybe my body finally gave out. Maybe my mind decided, just for once, to grant me peace.
Or maybe it's a sign. Maybe it's the universe whispering: You're still here for a reason.
I keep telling myself, "It's alright." I say it like a mantra, hoping repetition will make it true. It's alright that people see me only as a role. It's alright that friendships fade when convenience ends. It's alright that I carry the weight of responsibility while feeling invisible as a person. But the truth isit's not alright. And pretending it is just delays the healing.
Still, I show up. I take attendance. I help classmates during holidays. I speak confidently in public, even when my insides feel like shattered glass. I carry 11 pills every day, even when they feel like placebos in a system that doesn't understand my schizophrenianot really. I keep going, not because I'm hopeful, but because I haven't stopped yet. Because somewhere deep inside, beneath the self-deprecation and the exhaustion, there's a sliver of that old belief: Where there is life, there is hope.
Maybe today's early sleep is part of that hope. Maybe it's my body's way of saying, "You deserve rest, too." Maybe the world is coldbut I don't have to be. I can be kind to myself even when others aren't. I can honor my responsibilities without losing my soul. And I can grieve the friendships that turned transactional, without letting that define my worth.
So yesI feel bad. But I also feel here. And for now, that has to be enough.
If you're reading this and recognize these feelings in yourself: please don't suffer in silence. Reach out. Even if the world feels cold, there are still warm hands waiting to hold yours. You matternot for what you do, but for who you are. And that's a truth no attendance sheet can measure.
Content Warning: This piece discusses themes of emotional distress, feelings of isolation, academic pressure, suicidal ideation, and mental health struggles