" Is Marks Everything? No, it’s not But try telling that to the silence after the results came in Silence Not applause Not pride Just that quiet voice whispering 'Not enough....again' Just… a number. Staring back Reducing me. Telling me: You could’ve done better You should’ve. But why didn't that number see me at 3 a.m., Rereading the same line five times No It just saw… an answer. Right or wrong Tick or cross Ranked and Labelled And yes, I get it: marks do matter. marks do open doors. But they also close a lot of hearts All the efforts… just erased. And that mark feels like a stain you can't wash off Trying to quantify something That was never meant to be measured 'Me' It hurts When you start to think: Maybe I’m just dumb. Maybe I don’t have it in me. Maybe I'm a disappointment wrapped in effort? Maybe the one on the stage is everything. We both sat for the same exam. But we lived different stories. And somehow, only one of them counted.
Why?
Because that’s how the world works
And you know what hurts the most?
I killed the parts of me that made me feel alive. just to end up… invisible.
Why
Because hobbies won’t buy me dinner
Even I didn’t complain.
I just thought:
One day, this will all be worth it.
Or maybe
I just didn’t have the guts to face my parents’ disappointment.
Or maybe…
I wasn’t even sure if I had anything worth chasing.
So I did the rat race.
I chose the stable path.
The “right” thing.
and if the number at the end isn’t high enough,
you’re just another “almost.”
Just stuck in the middle-
average.
And god, that word hurts.
It hurts more than 'failure'
because at least failure feels sharp and loud
Average is just silence.
Just the background noise to someone else’s success story.
Not bad enough to be a failure,
Not good enough to be remembered.
Not good, not bad
just there...stuck
And somewhere in between trading joy for medals and dreams for grades.
I lost myself
In the pressure.
In the noise.
In the fear that if I don’t succeed now,
I might never be enough.
Am I never enough?
Maybe that’s what this has always been about.
Not marks.
Not careers.
Not expectations.
But that desperate hunger
To be enough.
To be told I mattered.
Even without medals.
Even without marks.
Even when I was just… me.
Not on a stage. Not on a scorecard.
Just here.
In this quiet, complicated, human way.
Because this?
This is not average.
If I’m going to fail,
let it be while fighting for something that’s mine.
Because I’m done apologizing for not being their version of success.
I’m done grieving a life that was never mine to begin with.
I want to build a life I don’t want to escape from.
I want to wake up and not feel like a ghost.
I want my story to mean something,
even if it’s messy.
Even if it’s loud.
Even if it’s not neat or perfect or understood by anyone else but me
Am I enough?
I don’t even care anymore.
The real question is
Is this life enough for me?
And if it’s not,
then I will burn it down
and build something that is"
They found the note tucked inside her NCERT book. Neatly folded.
Like she still wanted someone to understand.
Not blame Not cry
Just… understand.
And the world finally paused
Not because she topped a list.
But because she was gone.
And this time the silence meant something.
Suddenly, the marks didn’t
Her friends said they never knew
Her teacher said she was ‘so hardworking.’
Her parents kept calling her name like she’d answer.
