I had never been happy with myself. From as far back as I could remember, I was always the odd one out, the one who didn't quite fit in with everyone else. I wasn't the most attractive, and I was overweight, which made me a target for bullies from an early age.
It was in elementary school where the bullying started. The kids would call me names, shove me around, and make fun of me every chance they got. Even as I grew older and started high school, the bullying only intensified. I had no friends and no one to confide in. The bullies stripped me of everything that mattered, leaving me with nothing but pain and despair.
But I didn't give up. I found an escape in writing. I began to write a novel when I was 20, a shonen novel where the main character would get stronger and defeat the demon king. Writing became a way for me to escape the harsh reality of the world around me. I created a world where I could control everything and let my imagination run wild. The protagonist (kaven) in my novel was everything I was not: strong, brave, and fearless. He overcame all challenges and defeated all enemies with ease , he had a game like system which helped him to become stronger.It was a welcome escape from the harsh realities of my own life.
I spent hours every day perfecting each character and every plot twist in my novel. It became a source of pride for me, something that I could be proud of. I dreamed of one day seeing it published and shared with the world.
But as the years passed, the bullying never stopped. The world outside continued to be cruel, and my writing was my only sanctuary. The novel I wrote was the one thing that gave me hope and purpose
One day I was seeing the Comments on my novel I wrote
Comment 1 : it is boring
Comment 2 : you should give up on the novel
Comment 3 : why people even read this shit?
Comment 4 :it is same as others, no other novel are better than this
As I was reading the comments, I started to become mad these people don't even know what is a good novel really is . My blood pressure started to increase at a rapid rate, I started to feel disease and I was lossing consciousness , I tried to take my Medicines but I couldn't take them a time
I had a heart attack and died alone in my apartment at the young age of 35. It was a tragic end to a tragic life. I died with no friends, no family, and no legacy to speak of. I was a forgotten soul, lost in the sea of humanity