He is 11 years old. The only son of his parents. A brilliant student, always on top of the class. He loves football. Not just as a game but as life itself. He finds freedom in the way the ball moves, in the way his heart races when he sprints across the field. But his parents—loving, well-meaning—don’t see it that way.
“Football will spoil your studies.”
“Focus on your future.”
“Do you want to be a failure?”
So, they take his joy away.
As he grows older, the pressure tightens around him like an iron chain. In grade 10, it suffocates. Parents, teachers, society—they all speak in one voice. STOP PLAYING. STUDY.
No one asks, What do you want, son?
No one listens.
No one cares.
He watches kids playing football from his window. His chest aches. His hands tremble, itching to touch the ball, to run, to feel alive again. But he clenches his fists and turns away. He must make them proud.
Slowly, something inside him begins to die.
The boy who once laughed with his whole heart now forces a hollow smile. The boy who used to dream now drowns in books he never wanted to read. The boy who once lived now merely exists.
Results are out. A+. A perfect score. Applause fills the house. His parents beam with pride. Relatives shower him with praise.
“You made us so proud, son!”
“We always knew you were special.”
“This is just the beginning of your bright future!”
But no one sees the emptiness in his eyes.
No one sees how his hands no longer tremble for a football—because now, they tremble for something else. Something darker.
No one notices the boy standing at the edge of the roof, staring at the endless sky.
No one hears the silent scream trapped in his throat:
“I did everything you asked. I became everything you wanted. So why do I feel like nothing?”
But by the time they notice, it will be too late.
Dear Parents,
This is what might happen when you drown your child in expectations.
This is what happens when you never ask them what they want.
This is what happens when marks become more important than happiness.
Look into your child’s eyes. Really look.
Are they smiling, or are they wearing a mask?
Are they happy, or are they just obedient?
Are they living, or are they simply surviving?
Before you push them any further, ask yourself:
“If my child succeeds but loses themselves in the process—have I truly won?”
Because one day, you may stand in front of their empty room, holding their trophies, their medals, their report cards—wondering why none of it was ever enough to keep them here.
And that regret?
It will never leave you.
Let This Be Your Wake-Up Call.
Let them dream.
Let them live.
Let them be themselves.
Before it’s too late.
