Chapter 1
Hi!
My name is Chelsea, and I’m sixteen years old. If you asked anyone at school who I am, they’d probably tell you I’m the girl who’s always studying. The one who gets good grades. The one teachers trust and parents use as an example for their children. I guess they’re not wrong.
But that’s not really me.
At least... not all of me.
Every morning starts the same. My alarm rings before the sun comes up, and the first thing I see isn’t my phone or the window. It’s my pile of textbooks sitting beside my bed. Sometimes I just stare at them for a few seconds before getting up because I already know how my day is going to end—with me sitting in the exact same place, still studying.
People think getting good grades is easy once you’re “the smart kid.”
It’s not.
Once you become that person, everyone expects you to stay that person forever.
At home, my parents don’t really ask me if I’m happy. They ask me how my studies are going. Whether I’ve revised enough. Whether I’ve finished my homework. Whether I’m ready for the next exam. They love me—I know they do—but sometimes it feels like my report card speaks louder than I ever could.
I don’t blame them.
I just wish someone would ask if I was okay.
School isn’t much different. Teachers smile at me because they expect the right answers. My classmates borrow my notes before every test and congratulate me whenever I score well. Some even say they wish they were me.
I always smile back.
If only they knew.
Nobody sees what happens after I get home.
The moment I walk through the front door, it’s like a switch flips. I change out of my uniform, grab a snack if I have time, and sit at my desk. Then I study. One subject after another. Biology. Chemistry. Physics. Mathematics. English. Sometimes I don’t even notice the sun setting because my eyes never leave the pages.
By the end of the night, my head hurts so much that even reading one more sentence feels impossible.
But I still keep going.
Because what if I fail?
What if one bad result is enough for everyone to stop believing in me?
Those thoughts never leave my mind.
Ever.
Sometimes I look at my phone, hoping someone will text me first. Just a simple, “How was your day?” or “Are you okay?”
Most days, the screen stays empty.
I have friends.
I laugh.
I joke around.
But somehow... I’ve never felt so alone.
People always say, “You’re so lucky you’re smart.”
I smile because it’s easier than explaining that being “the smart one” is exhausting.
That sometimes I wish I could come home without worrying about tomorrow’s lesson.
That sometimes I wish I could make a mistake without feeling like the world was ending.
That sometimes...
I just wanted to be Chelsea.
Not the perfect daughter.
Not the perfect student.
Just Chelsea.
Back then, I thought my life would always be the same.
Study.
Sleep.
Repeat.
