16th April 2018
I don’t know why I feel so impulsive. I don’t know why I turn every conversation into an argument. It could have been better. I could have done something better, chosen something better. But, in the end, I did what I always do. I chose to be bad. Again.
I could be a better person, should be one actually. But, in the end, I always overreact, always exaggerate, and extend things for no reason. Why can’t I be kinder, more patient? Why am I so ruthless? Why do I hurt people so much?
I am so lucky to have such a good family. I should not be complaining at all, right? In fact, I don’t have anything against my parents at all. It’s all me. My fault. I hate people. Even though I know that, it harms me. I should stop, shouldn’t I? I have tried to, but nothing seems to work. But, writing always works. It always takes away my burden. Things I can’t or won’t tell anyone else but me. I could have chosen better, but I love myself, I owe myself a good life. That’s the least I can do for myself and my parents. The worst thing I could do to me is to not become the best version of myself that would have always been possible if I had just tried hard enough. I refuse to let myself down.
I will come back again, either better or worse. But, for all that matters, I refuse to give myself anything but what I rightfully deserve, a good life.
19th April 2018
Today was eventful to say the least. As usual, I got bullied by my classmates and that triggered my anger which, long story short, led to one of them being in the nurse’s room with a black eye and me ending up in the Principal’s office. Again.
It wasn’t my fault. That’s what I kept telling him. But he would have none of that. He absolutely refused to check the cameras, though I don’t know for what reason, and threatened me that this was the last time I was being let off the mark. One more complaint and I could pack my things and get away from that pathetic excuse of a school. Of course, it didn’t matter that I was their smartest student. I was replaceable and they would take full advantage of that fact.
I will also just note down the fact that two tear drops fell on the paper. When I read it the next time, they might have faded away, but I want to remember this.
23th April 2018
I am crying, as usual. Just as pathetic as I was before. I am so stupid. I know that they are going to hurt me, but it still touches a nerve every single time.
The teacher assigned us groups today and of course, my teammates refused to do any work and made me do all of it. If only the teachers believed that. If only the Principal believed that. If only there was someone willing to believe me.
The teacher praised all my teammates for my hard work and scolded me for not “contributing” as reported by my teammates. What did I even expect? That the teacher would have bothered looking and would have observed how I keenly did all the work instead of just pointing out accusations without evidence? Who am I kidding? I am just making myself miserable without any reason.
My parents are too busy for me. They have their own work. Am I being too selfish by hoping that they would move to lesser paying jobs that would give them time to spend with me? Was I being selfish today, when I begged them to listen to what I had to say even when I knew that they were probably tired from work and wanted nothing other than to go directly to bed? Most of all, were they right to call me an ungrateful person when two hours ago I told them that they weren’t giving me enough time? Am I not worth it? Am I not worth the trouble? Do I not deserve to be happy?
23rd April 2018 (Second Entry)
I am so sorry for even thinking of choosing myself over others.
I am so sorry for being selfish.
I am so sorry for being ungrateful.
I am so sorry for not being enough.
I am so sorry for not being empathetic even though I am the one suffering.
I am so sorry for existing.
I am so sorry for being a burden.
I am so sorry.
I am so SORRY.
I am SO SORRY.
I AM SO SORRY.
I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY.
I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY.
25th April 2018
I got suspended from school today. I would have been expelled if my parents had not shown up when they did. I was quite surprised that they had enough time to come to school.
My hopes were high. They were my parents, so they would always listen to me, right? If only I had known how wrong I was. They dragged me to the car, not caring about the fact that I was screaming because of the pain they caused by holding my hands so tightly.
But I still had hope. These were my parents. They were people I could trust. I wanted to tell them how I wasn’t the one to start the fight. How, the others had ganged up on me and had started to choke me before I had even laid a finger on them. But, when I opened my mouth, a tight slap turned my head to the other side.
And that is when I stopped believing them. It didn’t matter which one of them had slapped me because the other had just stood and watched. Both had chosen not to believe me.
25th April 2018 (Second Entry)
I am so sorry for believing.
I am so sorry for hoping.
I am so sorry for being naive.
I am so sorry for being a burden.
I am so sorry for being the victim.
I am so sorry for always thinking that one day someone would believe me.
I am so sorry for hurting myself even though I know there will not be any outcome.
I am so sorry to let these tears fall even though I should have gotten used to this and should have been stronger.
I am so SORRY.
I am SO SORRY.
I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SORRY.
I AM SO SORRY.
I AM SO SORRY.
I AM SO SORRY.
P.S. – I feel a little feverish. And even though I am suspended from school, my parents have dismissed all the maids for two days and have told me to clean the house for those days as my punishment. I know that I might faint while cleaning, but I will not tell them. They did not believe me once. Why would they believe me now?
25th to 26th April 2018 (Not a diary entry)
He closed his diary and sighed. Keeping it on the side table, he slept. There was nothing he could do to make them believe him. They were his parents. Weren’t they the people who had promised that they would always make time for him? Didn’t these people notice that he hadn’t smiled in a long time?
When he woke up the next day, his parents had already prepared a list of things for him to do. They did not notice that his eyes were tired. They did not notice that his face was pale. And so, he didn’t bother telling them about his fever.
After cleaning the house, he was supposed to buy groceries. So, out he went. By that time, he was both sick and exhausted. But he didn’t stop. His head spun and he thought he was going to faint.
He couldn’t even see clearly.
And that is why he didn’t notice the car which was about to hit him.
Before, he couldn’t see clearly, now he saw nothing.
Screams.
A warm liquid trickled down his forehead.
Blood.
He could not open his eyes or move.
Pain
And then just the abyss of nothingness.
26th April 2018 (Not a Diary Entry)
A boy was rushed to the emergency room. They observed how he barely breathed. They tried reviving him using electric shock.
The monitor showed a straight line. The boy’s chest did not rise again.
Time of death: 14:07pm
Cause of death: Excessive blood loss due to a car accident.
Two people were inside the room where the boy’s body was kept. They looked miserable. His hand was in theirs, the touch much softer than the last time they had held him.
19th May 2018 (The Mom’s Entry)
His last rites was held three weeks ago. I had watched as my husband performed the cremation rituals. We hadn’t even made up from our last fight. But he probably hates us now. After all, wouldn’t my son be happier dead than alive if everyone just kept disappointing him again and again?
I had gathered the courage to go to his room two days ago and now I wish I hadn’t. The first thing my eyes fell upon was his diary and I read it. Only, if I had realized how selfish I was being. I didn’t dare show the diary to my husband. I could not handle myself. I knew if he read it, we would both make a rash decision that we would regret later in life. One of us needed to be sane.
If only I had realized how unfair I was being to my son. If only I had listened to him once. If only I had trusted him. If only I had done something different, something better. Then perhaps my son would have been alive today.
19th May 2018 (The Dad’s Entry)
His last rites was held three weeks ago. I had barely managed to stop my hand from shaking violently as I lit the fire. Even though it has been three weeks, I cannot convince myself that he is dead. I could not even blame the driver who hit him. It was indeed my son who had walked into the street without looking. The doctors were able to identify that he had very high fever which might have been the cause for such a thing to occur. How had I not noticed that he had fever that morning? The driver said that before they had reached the hospital, my son had regained consciousness for a while. He thought that the boy’s last words must be meant for his family, or someone intimate to him. That’s why he had recorded everything he said. But what my son said will haunt me till the end of my life. “Thank you for this”, he had said, with all the sincerity one could muster. He died and yet he made it seem like the greatest gift ever given to him.
I dared not show the video to my wife. We both could not go mad at the same time. One of us needed to be sane to make sure that we would not do something which we would regret later in life.
19th May 2018 (Not a Diary Entry)
In a realm far different than ours existed a soul without a body. One that floated around with bliss he hadn’t felt in a lifetime. There were other souls too with him. And when they had asked about his death, he had just smiled and told them that while the car accident might have been unexpected, it had been one of the best things that had happened to him.
For him, the sun shone brighter than it had even before, filling him with such joy that it overflowed from him like honey, seeping through the cracks of sadness that had not yet been healed from his life on earth. But it did not matter because he was happier. It did not matter that he hadn’t completely healed, because this time, the ones around him cared.
Occasionally, he also looked upon the people he had once called parents. They had never stopped mourning. But, given another chance, he would have chosen death all over again, because he knew that regret would always be stronger than gratitude.
THE END