Student's Voice

Student's Voice
I was never the prodigy they prayed for—
no golden child, no constellation carved in brilliance.
Just an ordinary student
trying to steady trembling hands
beneath the avalanche of “do better.”

My report cards never bloomed with praise;
they arrived like quiet funerals,
numbers dressed as judgments,
reminders of how far I fell
from the fantasies others built for me.

I walk through corridors
with a heart stitched from disappointments—
every comparison a needle,
every expectation a wound
that refuses to clot.

Teachers glance past me,
as if I were a ghost
haunting the back bench.
Their smiles are reserved
for the ones who shine naturally—
while I drown silently
in chapters I don’t understand
and futures I never chose.

No one sees the exhaustion I drag like chains—
the insomnia masquerading as motivation,
the panic buried under forced composure,
the grief of watching my dreams
collapse under the weight of others’ ambitions.

Some nights, I study till my spirit fractures,
till letters blur into labyrinths,
till my breath grows shallow
as though my chest forgot how to hold hope.

They measure my worth
in marks, ranks, and ruined sleep—
never in survival,
never in resilience,
never in the bravery of waking up each day
to battles I never agreed to fight.

And yet—
beneath all the chaos,
a stubborn spark refuses to die.
A quiet defiance.
A whisper that says:
"You are more than this merciless curriculum,
more than their mercurial expectations,
more than the sorrow sitting heavy on your bones."

One day,
when the noise fades
and their definitions of “success” lose their power—
I will rise.
Not as a topper,
not as a miracle child,
but as someone who survived
every invisible war.

And when that day comes,
I’ll finally breathe,
gently telling the shattered student inside me—
"You were never a failure.
You were simply fighting battles
no one else cared to understand.”