prose by Ryan Chatchadathran
dedicated to my little brother
...
I ’ m l o s t…
on the trail, the trail everyone expects you to follow. When I go off track, they look down on me with a sense of disappointment. They tell me to get back on the trail.
But I can’t be like him. I can’t be like him, my older brother.
The trail is rocky, with rough terrain. Dark and unpleasant.
I can’t be perfect like him.
The trail doesn’t look like that for him though.
I’m not pitch-perfect. I don’t have the ability to identify different pitches in a split second;
no, that’s not me. You’ve got the wrong guy. The right guy’s over there, though.
For him, the trail is a walk through the park. It can be a walk on the beach as the sun rises or sets. It can be walking through the exotic jungle, with animals running wild, and cheering him on, celebrating as he reaches another checkpoint. It can be anything he wants it to be. But that’s not the case for me. No, it’s not the case for me.
I can’t read and write in two languages; no, that’s not me. You’ve got the wrong guy. The right guy’s over there, though.
I feel a weight on my shoulders, but when I look in the mirror there’s nothing holding me down. I guess you can’t see some things. The things that you don’t want others to see are often seen, though. I guess that’s just how life is.
I don’t have perfect grades; I don’t have a perfect attendance record. You’ve got the wrong guy. The right guy’s over there, though. I can’t play two instruments. I can’t sing. I can’t socialize as well as he does. I don’t have as many friends as he does. I don’t… I don’t… I can’t… I’m not…
I can’t…
I don’t…
I’m not…
You’ve got the wrong guy.
SCHOOL
The teacher is handing us back our tests
from last week.
I sit in my seat.
Looking cool, calm, and collected.
But in reality,
I’m just a little bit
did I study hard enough? I wish i could just d i s a p p e a r
I need at least an 80… is everyone l o o king at me?
what if…? everyone probably did well. not including me, of course
I hate myself what will they think?
anxious.
cool
calm
collected
I don’t want to think these thoughts. But they keep coming.
Kinda like rainy days during the summer.
Rainy days,
sometimes they make you feel miserable too.
Just like the unwanted
thoughts trapped in my head.
The teacher leisurely takes her sweet time handing out the tests. Some of the students look thrilled, some not so much. I guess people have different standards for themselves. Or maybe… people have different standards for them. I don’t really know. As my peers get my tests, one by one, I sit there waiting patiently for mine. It seemed to never come. Like time had stopped. The noises of the classroom drowned out. Until…
“Hey, Leonardo?” I snapped out of my daze and back to reality, the sounds of the noisy classroom fading back in.
“Y- yeah?”
“I’m sorry to say this, but you’re gonna have to retake the test.”
The world froze.
I closed my eyes. I wanted to scream as loud as I could.
Let it all out.
Cry.
See, you’ll never be like him.
I nod to the teacher as she starts discussing test retaking times.
You’ll never. Be. Like. Him.
Walking down the hall, their voices swarm my head.
Hey! How did you do on the test? What did you get?
How did you do? I got a perfect score!
Yes! Let’s go!
Aw, I got one wrong… it’s still ok though!
What did you get?
I got a 95 too!
I wish they would all just shut up.