/dep/ - Depression

Studying is the bane of my existence. Honestly, it feels like some cosmic joke designed to torture me. If hell exists, it’s just endless exams and textbooks. And then there’s me, stuck in a third-world circus, India. Yeah, the same one where people will skin you alive if you don’t follow their playbook of “success.” I flunked college once—no, wait, make that twice—and let me tell you, the outrage was unreal. It’s like I committed a war crime. My parents? Oh, they hate me now, I can feel it in the awkward silences and side-eyes. And it’s not just the failing part; they’re terrified I’ll be mooching off them forever. Hell, I’m terrified of it.

And then, there’s this bloody exam looming over me. I’ve tried. I really have. But the more I study, the more it evaporates from my brain like it’s allergic to knowledge. It’s absurd. Who invented this nightmare? They deserve jail time. Every time someone so much as mentions studying, I break out in a cold sweat. I’ve literally fainted over it. Fainted! But does anyone care? No. Society looks at me like I’ve personally slaughtered their pets just because I failed at college. Twice. Wait till they hear that little update. I’ll probably be excommunicated.

At this point, I’m done. D-O-N-E. I don’t want to study anymore. I’d rather stare into the void. And oh, don’t even get me started on the “what could have been.” If I were a white guy in a first-world country, I’d be coasting on social safety nets and “find yourself” gap years. Or better yet, if I were a succubus here, at least I’d have the sweet, sweet option of getting married off and chilling with household chores. Instead, I’m this miserable, broke, perpetually judged disaster of a person.

Anyway, cheers to another sleepless night before failing yet another exam. Life’s a circus, and I’m the clown. Take a bow, idiot.