The Boy Who Never Won
There are people who are born beneath lucky stars.
The child who tops every examination without trying.
The athlete who never seems to tire.
The handsome boy who steals every glance without realizing it.
The talented musician.
The gifted artist.
The fearless leader.
Then…
There are people like me.
If my life were written into a book, even I would skip the first chapter.
Nothing about me was remarkable.
I wasn’t ugly enough to be remembered.
Nor handsome enough to be admired.
At five feet eight inches, I stood neither tall nor short, simply another face swallowed by a crowd. In Nepal, even my height felt painfully average.
I wasn’t intelligent.
I wasn’t athletic.
I wasn’t funny.
I wasn’t confident.
If someone asked me what I was good at…
I honestly wouldn’t know what to answer.
I was just…
There.
Existing.
Nothing more.
⸻
I studied MBBS.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
The truth was simpler.
My parents wanted a doctor.
I wanted… I didn’t even know what I wanted.
So I became someone else’s dream.
Every morning I walked through the gates of Sisapani Medical College with books under my arm and emptiness inside my chest.
Professors spoke.
Students answered.
Pages turned.
Pens moved.
I sat there.
Listening.
Pretending.
Somewhere along the way, studying stopped feeling like learning.
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It became surviving.
I told myself I would study tomorrow.
Tomorrow became next week.
Next week became next month.
Before I realized it, entire semesters had slipped through my fingers.
Every night I promised myself,
“This is the last game.”
Then another match started.
And another.
And another.
Hours disappeared into glowing screens.
Victory in games felt easier than facing reality.
At least there…
I could become someone.
A warrior.
A king.
A legend.
Outside the screen…
I couldn’t even organize my own room.
Dirty clothes lay scattered across the hostel floor.
Books gathered dust instead of knowledge.
Sometimes I looked at the pile of laundry and thought,
“I’ll wash them tomorrow.”
Tomorrow never came.
There were weeks when I couldn’t even force myself to wash my own underwear.
Not because I didn’t know how.
Because I simply…
Didn’t move.
Sleep became my escape.
Twelve hours.
Fourteen hours.
Sometimes even more.
Yet no amount of sleep ever made me feel rested.
It felt as though someone had tied invisible chains around my body.
My mind screamed,
“Get up.”
My body whispered,
“Later.”
And later always won.
⸻
People often say,
“Everyone has a talent.”
I used to believe that.
Until I started comparing myself with everyone around me.
My classmates studied harder.
My friends played sports better.
Some sang beautifully.
Some drew breathtaking sketches.
Some could make strangers laugh within minutes.
Everyone seemed to possess something.
Everyone…
Except me.
Jealousy is an ugly emotion.
It doesn’t arrive with anger.
It arrives quietly.
Smiling.
Whispering.
“Why not you?”
At first I ignored it.
Later…
It became part of me.
Whenever someone succeeded, I smiled.
Then I went back to my room and wondered why I could never become like them.
Was I lazy?
Untalented?
Broken?
Or…
Was I simply born to watch others shine?
⸻
The hostel became my entire world.
The same walls.
The same corridor.
The same cafeteria.
The same conversations.
Every day repeated itself so perfectly that sometimes I forgot what day it was.
Wake up.
Attend class.
Pretend to study.
Play games.
Sleep.
Repeat.
Days became weeks.
Weeks became months.
Months became years.
Life wasn’t painful.
It was worse.
It was empty.
⸻
That night…
Rain tapped softly against the hostel window.
My roommates had already fallen asleep.
The only light came from my phone screen.
Another game.
Another defeat.
I stared at the glowing “Defeat” screen for a long time before locking my phone.
How ironic.
Even in games…
I wasn’t very good.
A quiet laugh escaped my lips.
“I really can’t win at anything…”
Outside, thunder rolled across the mountains.
The room fell silent.
For reasons I couldn’t explain, I looked out the window.
The night sky seemed strangely beautiful.
For the first time in years…
I asked myself a question.
“If I could start over…”
“Would I become someone different?”
I didn’t know the answer.
Slowly, I lay down on my bed.
The rain continued its lonely rhythm.
My eyelids grew heavy.
The last thing I remembered was the sound of distant thunder…
…and a strange feeling that tomorrow…
would not belong to Earth.
⸻
End of Chapter 1