A Suicide Note

Dear Mom and Dad,
I know you won't be happy to find me dead on my bed, but I wasn't happy either to do this. For years I have worked hard, tried to be the son you wanted me to be, getting a good score in every subject and excelling in football too. Day and night I persevered to fulfill your dreams dad of being good at mathematics and becoming an engineer like you. And for you mom, I trained hard every morning to be a successful footballer about whom you could brag to your friends.

I loved to paint, but I know you didn't like it dad, I know you thought painting was for losers who didn't have an ambition in life. So I stopped painting. I stopped watching tv, or listening to the radio, I even stopped reading my favourite novels or hanging out with my friends. I was always holed up in my room trying to score 100% in each subject. You did not know it dad, but inside was crying. Crying like a little child trapped in an endless loop of achieving success.

Mom, I know it meant a lot to you to know that your son was a good footballer, and much better than the next door aunty's son. I know you came for my every match, I know you use to wake up before me to prepare for my 5:30am training each morning. I know you cheered the loudest whenever I made a goal. But mom couldn't you see the pain I had to endure, did you never notice that your son never had enough sleep? That he was always recovering from some injury? And if not that trying to hide the fact that his muscles were paining? Mom, when my team won the inter-school cup, you kissed the trophy, but didn't kiss me. I cried that night and hated that cup ever since. I love the game, but I love you more than the game mom, do you love me more than this game too?

I wanted to live life on my own terms, I wanted to make my own way, but I spent half my childhood chasing your dreams. For you dad, I was just the numbers printed on my report card, I will never forget the day you were so disappointed in me for losing the first rank to a girl by 2 marks, you didn't eat that night and increased my study hours, I wasn't even allowed on the dining  table to dine with my family, I was served food in my room. Dad, why did you love the number printed on my report card more than me? And you mom, you were in love with the trophies, medals and to get a chance to show me off to your friends. I know you still haven't forgiven me for catching cold and being unable to play the finals 2 years back. You loved my achievements more than me.

I don't want to die, my hands tremble as I try to unscrew the top of the sleeping pills bottle, but I would rather sleep eternally than live like this. It is too painful for me to live, every breath I draw tears me apart, but before bidding goodbye I just want to make one request. Don't let Tia, my baby sister go through what I had to go through. Let her live her life the way she wants. I know my committing suicide will bring a lot of shame to the family, I apologize for it. But living under this roof is torturing me.

So goodbye mom, dad, Tia, I hope you will forgive me for this and remember me for all my achievements that made you happy.

Your son.


note: This post neither promotes nor recommends suicide. This is a work of fiction to bring to light the adverse effects of using your children as a vehicle to pursue your own goals. Each child is blessed and come to this world with his/her own sets of talents. Don't pressurize these untapped treasures of talents into fulfilling your own greed and ego.