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RishiRishi Goel
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Dear Mum and Dad,

I’ve been sorry my entire life. Sorry for others to have to put up with me. To have to take care of the drain that is me. To have to endure my presence. I’m not worth it and I know that. I don’t deserve anything good.

I understand those who leave me alone, who ignore me, the people who would rather go on with their day than acknowledge I exist. I am a nuisance. A burden. Extra baggage that surpasses people’s allowance.

Why am I still here?

It’s these feelings that leaves me at war with myself. Unable to grasp what to do with my life. I have no control. Why am I the one who suffered? Maybe I am a stillbirth whose vessel survived parturition but whose mind never truly escaped the uterine tomb.

I never belonged in this world.

Everyone at schools already knows this. I stand out. Not in a quirky, interesting way. More like ‘that guy’ on the outskirts. That guy who has no friends. I tried to join clubs; that’s what Mum told me to do. It doesn’t work. Every time it became worse than before. It isn’t physical bullying as such. It’s just that everyday became a chore that I’m forced to complete. A painful, boring chore. A chore that holds no promise of a better future. A chore that broke me.

I would give anything to be average. To fit in. Assimilate. Just, be normal.

Every day of school goes the same way. I open the gates to a playground of ignorance, trees looming over, watching. They were enormous, broad-trunked eucalypts that grew with an eastward slant, their thick finger like roots crawling into the stone and – over the years – cracking and breaking the concrete around them. My locker is holed away in a corner, behind these trees, lonesome and weathered after the years of erosion, much like me.

The day begins with classes. Each hour an opportunity to learn, to expand my pool of knowledge. The teachers try so hard to understand students. To try to make them learn. To invigorate some sense of enthusiasm. Too bad they don’t notice the pain right in front of them. Too bad they don’t reach out to help. Too bad they can’t see how much I need help.

Even in classes I know I didn’t belong. People avoid me like I’m contagious. I sit by myself focussing on the clock. Watching the hands move methodically. Its peaceful, watching time pass, reflecting on the futility of life.

Then comes lunch. It feels like a torture chamber. A prison where I am forced to comply to standardized measures of popularity. Where I am reminded daily of how inadequate I am as a person. Of how little I mean to world. Of how little it will mean if I disappear.

It isn’t a specific person who made me feel like this. Rather the collective, banding together to force me out. No one understands there is a hierarchy. A status ladder. A ladder that determines who belongs. A ladder I’m unable to climb.

School isn’t inclusive. It’s as if I’m being taken from my home and thrust into an environment of hatred. Australian schools are better than most, I agree. But the oppression is elusive. It’s the incessant exclusion – the most sophisticated, subtle manifestation of bullying. Teachers let it pass, unknowing of the damage it is causing, the minds it is breaking.

Nobody listens. Nobody cares.

I never belonged in this world.

That’s why I had to do it. I don’t know what else to do. What’s the point in living? All the promises that it gets better. Lies. It never got better. It got worse. “Life is suffering”; that’s what Buddha said.

He’s right.

Once its done I’ll finally be where I belong. I am already dead inside so not much will change. I hope you understand why I did it. I can no longer put the burden of my life on you anymore. It’s selfless for me to die. I am a waste of life. I’m no good to anyone. I’m broken.

I don’t belong.

Please forgive me but I just can’t do this anymore. I hope you learn to thrive without me. I can’t live like this. I need the pain to stop.

Sorry Mum, please don’t worry, it was never your fault. I hope you find peace in knowing that I’ll no longer be in pain. I’m going where I belong. Sorry Dad, I’ll make sure to use an old razor blade so you don’t have to go buy new ones. I’ll put a blanket over myself so you don’t have to see my body.

I never belonged in this world.

Goodbye.

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About The Author
Rishi
Rishi Goel
About This Story
Audience
15+
Posted
17 Jun, 2019
Genre
Type
Words
791
Read Time
3 mins
Favorites
1 (View)
Recommend's
1 (View)
Rating
Views
606

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