Silent Resilience

Building Blocks

When he was a kid, Adriel was always called a smart boy.

This was, indeed, a title that made general sense. Adriel was always a high scorer. He told himself that on the day he received a bad grade was the day he died.

But he didn't need to worry about having bad grades. Adriel was a naturally talented kid. He didn't need to try very hard to get good marks. In fact, even just the slightest effort made in class would guarantee himself a 100%. It was like he was an adult living in a child's body. His teachers all considered him to be mature for his age.

All around, he was praised as the "gifted child" in his class. Perhaps this was the reason why he had no friends back in Singapore. Part of it was his classmate's jealousy, though most of it was his own superiority complex. When the classroom was divided into smart and dumb, good and bad, his little six year-old brain couldn't help but view himself as the king of the school.

Now, Adriel never voiced those thoughts aloud. He was refined enough to know that it would be hurtful to his, objectively dumber, classmates. So he suppressed them in his brain and allowed his pride to grow larger and larger, stroked by the adults that called him smart.

His parents were an example of those adults, but they knew not of the consequences of their actions. Adriel was not smart nor mature. He got high grades, but he was still just as much of a child as his classmates. His ego was proof.

When he moved to Japan and started school was when the problems began.

With his mother gone, Adriel's sole close relationship was his father. Each empty bottle that the man brought home, Adriel blamed on himself.

'If I were smarter, I could be successful. If I were smarter, I would understand him better. If I were smarter, I would be a better son'

That was where his hyperfixation began. Beginning school in a new country, Adriel naturally struggled to learn the language. No matter how "gifted" he was, he could not learn Japanese inside-out within just a few weeks. His school wasn't accommodating enough of this either: both the staff and his classmates.

Naturally, his grades dropped. This was terrifying.

Adriel was a gifted child. He was mature for his age. He was a smart boy. And now that his father needed him the most, the mere thought of failure scared him into oblivion. Why couldn't he just be smarter?

He began to wring himself out, throwing away his hobbies in the name of studying. He read until his eyes were dried and his brain began to throb. He studied and studied until he understood the smallest detail of everything he learned, until he was four times above the curriculum.

It wasn't even about being knowledgeable anymore. As long as he got high grades, Adriel allowed himself to sleep at night. Every time he got a perfect score, his father nodded at him with a smile. That much was enough to fuel the fire.

He was determined to restore himself to his original mental capacity. Since when was he so stupid? Within a few months, he was proclaimed a gifted child once again, and his classmates watched in jealousy. Once again, Adriel began to isolate himself.

But this was when Adriel began to grow close to his first friend. Aaron Wheeler.

So long, he thought that smart was a synonym of good. As long as you tried a little, you could be smart like him. He wondered why Aaron got such terrible grades, even though she was such a good friend. He thought everyone had the same brain, so why were they so academically different?

When he went to her house, for the first time, was when he understood. Aaron herself seemed so embarrassed to be in her own home, but alas, they needed to work on a project together.