Between Marksheets and Meltdowns

School life — it’s nostalgic, isn’t it?

Growing up, I used to hate going to school. The bulky books, the stiff uniforms, the strict school environment... ugh. And to top it all off, when your mom works in the same school? Girl, you’re doomed. Imagine being constantly watched — it felt like having a personal bodyguard on campus 24/7. Sure, it was a pride moment sometimes, but let’s be honest — most times it felt like a never-ending watchtower.

I was the notorious, hyperactive, jovial girl — the one always laughing too loud, running too much, talking too fast. Maybe that’s what I’m missing in my life now. That chaos, that energy, that version of me. I was the teacher’s pet sometimes (perks of having your mom around), but mostly, I was the “partiality kid” in the eyes of my classmates. Even my hard-earned victories were brushed off as favoritism.

But what they never saw was the pressure — the constant need to be at the top, to be the perfect student, to keep up with what was expected of me. Studies, studies, and more studies. And no — my parents weren’t strict, but they kinda were. You get it, right?

I was always chasing that first rank like it was some golden ticket to inner peace. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. Even when I was running on two hours of sleep and ten spoons of stress, the fear of "what will people say?" kept me going. That’s when studying stopped being fun and turned into an unpaid internship in anxiety.

Look, I liked studying — just not the kind where you’re forced to prove for the 100th time that a triangle is, in fact, a triangle. Like seriously, bro, don’t you have eyes? Get your specs adjusted before dragging the whole class into your existential geometry crisis.

And then there was Maths — my sworn enemy.
Anything with numbers? Instant headache. Chemistry? More like Chemis-cry. Physics? Please. Even Botany betrayed me with formulas. Plants were supposed to be chill!

But Zoology? Oh, now we’re talking. That was my jam.
Learning about my own body felt like reading my own manual for the first time. Fascinating stuff. It was the only subject that didn’t feel like academic torture — it felt like a therapy session where I actually wanted to take notes.

Middle school felt like a never-ending battle. I was always told, "Just one last time. Ace this and you’ll be free." And guess what? I did. I scored great — not what I expected, but enough to be the topper.

Then came high school — and the real trauma began. New school, barely any friends, and subjects that doubled in books and pressure. It was a whole different storm.

And then… Covid happened. Our magical “all-pass” era. My previous scores saved me, and to my surprise, I became the school topper. Sounds like a dream, right? But to me, it felt hollow. It mattered to my parents — and I’m happy for them. But for me? It didn’t feel like joy. It didn’t feel like victory.

Yes, I got into a good college. But that academic success never really fulfilled me. It didn’t heal the stress, the identity struggles, the lost fun of learning. I had my fair share of ups and downs — with friendships, relationships, heartbreaks, and lessons that shaped who I am today.

But that’s a story for another blog.

The reason I wrote this? Maybe because somewhere in this story, you saw yourself. Maybe you’ve felt the same pressure, the same chaos, the same joy, and the same confusion. Maybe you’ve had your own set of “teacher’s pets,” silent tears, quiet victories, and hidden traumas.

We’re all sailing in the same boat, my friend.

And the good news? We’ve made it through. We’ve survived. And we will continue to survive — riding the tides, braving the waves, learning our own truths, and discovering the versions of ourselves we left behind in the school corridors.

Here’s to all of us — the dreamers, the rebels, the overachievers, the misfits.
We made it. And we’ll keep making it.

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