(Song: Answer: Love myself by BTS)

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"Please leave!" Making that nasally, high pitched voice, they jerked me out of the Girl's Loo. I stumbled upon my feet but kept them moving, continuing on my destination to nowhere.

This has become their regular event of belittling me, for my brown Indian origins. I am sick of these people, I am sick of this trivial feeling called existence. Never has it ever, since I joined the University, that they have let a day by to not tell me, to not remind me of how undesirable, I was.

I was indeed not the one anyone wanted. Why would someone want a 22 years old woman with zero experience in drinking, smoking, partying? In anything fun?

I don't want to die. I tried skin lightener. I tried bleach. I tried heavy makeup, I tried everything I could afford. But I can't. I couldn't mix with the girls. I wish I was dead.

"Boo! You look like Poo Poo, Eww!"

"Curry, Curry, Curry-Gurry, Curry!"

The constant teasing and bullying was echoing in me and tormenting every bit of my soul.

Enough of this treatment!

"Take me home. I... I can't take it anymore." I whispered.

"What happened, young lady?"

A light but manly voice spoke as I felt a tapping sensation on my shoulders, that made me turn around in an instance, with a heart of dear of predicaments.

"Woh! Calm, calm..." The tall man wmed his hands in the hair, gesturing me to simmer down. Coming at a self composer, I realised it was my professor, Prof. D. Choi.

"Prof. Choi?" I uttered his name with a hinge of enquiry, lighting in it.

"Yah! What's up? Why are you here? All alone?"

"Nothing as such." I denied my pain, trying to appear strong even when I was vulnerable.

"Uh-huh? You don't look alright. You can share your hurt and heartbreak, Archi."

"You won't understand, Sir."

"Oh! But atleast, I can hear." He insisted.

"If you don't understand, I'll just leave." I heaved a heavy sigh of depression and suppressed the heart wrenching cry, I was holding back.

"Is it Bristol, Hailey, Kelsey and Tessa again?"

"You know about them?" His enquiry shocked me, that instead of answering, I fired a new question.

"Sure, do I! Everyone knows about these IVY-Leaguers. But why are you alone?"

"I... I want to quit. I am a nerd, I am useless. I don't mix with anyone. I can't flock with anyone. I am frustrated and exhausted."

I enclosed my face in a cage of my hands and bit my lips, trying my hardest to survive. I felt the professor get up and open the door to exit.

He didn't understand, I know. No one does.

"Miss, Look at me." His voice rang in my yearning ears as I peered my sight at him with three bowls and two bags of rice.

"Let me tell you a story. Story of life." He started.

"Chinese, Japanese, Look at these, Oh so dirty knees!" His imitation of that voice, threatened my aching tears to cascade down my cheeks.

"I am a Korean speaking, Korean man. I'm not Chinese. I am not Japanese. But I have small eyes, and can I change what I am?"

"No." I replied.

"Exactly! Pretty lady. Now look at these two bowls of rice. White rice represents the number of people without mental illness. The brown rice represents the ones with mental struggles."

"Here I mix them. This palm shall be our society. Now count the total number of grains here." Counting the number of rice grains on his palm, I replied with a 10.

"How many are brown?"

"4."

"It may appeare to you that short suffering alone. But we never know who goes through what. At least once everyone has had depression, anxiety, heartache and pain.
Society is like clay. It mouls where you put some pressure." He emphasized. on the word some and I kept on listening.

"You need and instant is from the life where you got plenty of every hurt and heartbreak, you just take it all to the the face. I know that you want to cry, But it's much more to life than dying, over your past mistakes and people who through the on your name."

"So..."

"Values yourself the worth you decide. Be the pressure that moulds the clay. After all, life is all ambrosial when you love yourself."

↞↭↭↭↭↠

Waking up, I prepared to leave for work and didn't realise when my driver halted the vehicle infront of 'Philautia', my hospital. The nurses and junior doctors stood up, as I entered and proceeded to my chamber. I had to check up on an old man today.

"Good morning, Sir." I greeted the old man.

"Good morning, Archi. Sorry, Dr. Sg." Recognising the trembling old voice, a year broke down my eyes. Patient 601 was dying. Patient 601 was Prof. D. Choi.

"Sir..."

"Love is immortal, athenatos." He breathed his lasts.

"But Philautia is Ambrosial, divine self love."

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Hey Rosairises...

Okay, this story isn't related to Grammy's Archi.
This was a story I was asked to write for my state level representation of my school.
My topic was self security.
I wrote this and bagged the 2nd place.

I was asked to write an Indian name, which is why I could think of no uncommon names but Archi. I know there are many Archi's out there but it's pretty less available than Sneha, Shreya, Ankita, Riya and all such names.

Prof. D. Choi has been inspired from Daniel Choi, aka, Yeonjun Choi.

Please don't confuse me as Archi. Her character inspo is infact me, but only in Grammy.

My name ain't Archi. It's Ayontani, and that's by official birthname.

Anyways, we started with this because I want all of you to love yourselves.

Kay Bye!