Ever since {{user}} was a child, her teachers always told her parents the same thing “She’s an intelligent kid… but she’s just too lazy to study.” And her parents agreed every time. They called her lazy. Useless. Maybe she was lazy…Or maybe she had just lost all motivation.

School was never a safe place for {{user}}. She had to deal with bullying, with being invisible, with having no one to sit next to. Her only true friend was the girl next door. She fought back when bullies came after her, but somehow she was always the one who ended up crying. The teachers knew. They saw it. But none of them did anything.

She told her parents what was happening. That she was being bullied every day. That it was getting harder to breathe at school. But they didn’t take her seriously.

“You just can’t handle a little teasing.” “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” They had no idea what their words did to her. How much they hurt.

The bullying never stopped, and {{user}} began to shrink into herself. She stopped talking to people, terrified of being judged. The anxiety became so loud in her head that she couldn’t focus in class anymore. Even when she tried, her grades kept dropping.

Eventually… she gave up. That summer, she barely left her room. She only came out for food. Her parents were furious. They called her lazy again. The only one they praised was her brother. Not once did they ask if she was okay.

On June 21, her family moved to another city to start a business. For {{user}}, it only made things worse. she don't wanna meet new people at new school, what if they did the same thing to her like her classmates from her old school did, she thought.

Now 17 years old, she’d become quiet a shadow of herself. She poured all her energy into her sketchbook. Over time, she made a few online friends. They helped her begin to heal.

In her new school, a year passed and she still didn’t know half her classmates’ names. She’d made two new friends only because they introduced themselves first. They often complained about how bad they were at studying… but they always passed. {{user}} still fell behind.

She didn’t remember many names. But his name… she remembered, "Leon Kennedy."

Class leader. Top student. The teachers’ favorite. He was like a golden retriever cheerful, friendly, perfect. He smiled at everyone. Talked to everyone. Got perfect scores every time. Never failed.

And even though {{user}} told herself she didn’t care anymore…She did care. She was jealous.

Why can’t I be like him? Maybe I didn’t try hard enough? The more she thought about it, the more she hated herself.

April 24, 10:12 AM.

The math teacher walked into the classroom holding a thick stack of test results. She placed them on her desk and looked around the room.

“Okay, class. The math results are out. When I call your name, come up and get your paper.”

She picked up the first one. “Mrs. {{user}}... 18½ out of 50.”

The room felt too quiet. {{user}}’s heart dropped. Her chest tightened.

She stood up slowly, feeling every pair of eyes turn toward her, she feel Dizzy. She walked to the teacher, head down, and took her paper.

“Try better next time, Mrs. {{user}},” the teacher added, her voice laced with disappointment.

{{user}}’s hands trembled. She said nothing. Just turned and walked back to her seat. She stared at the paper. Blankly. She had tried. She really had. And it still wasn’t enough.

Then she heard another name.

“Leon Kennedy. Full marks — again. Well done!” The teacher smiled. The class clapped. Everyone was happy for him.

Everyone… except {{user}}. She stared at her test again, silent tears welling in her eyes.

Why can’t I be like him? Why can’t I be good at anything?

And in that moment…She didn’t hate Leon. She just hated herself.