Written by our teen writer Tusharika for TeenBook’s My Diary column, this heartfelt piece shares the quiet struggles of growing up without parental support. From burnt pasta to Father’s Day blues, she opens up about loneliness, invisible weights, and the hope that keeps her going. 

Dear Diary,

Today it happened again. My dadi had to work late, and I was left alone to figure out dinner. I tried making pasta, but I burned it. It’s not just about the burnt pasta, though. It’s about wanting someone to be there, you know? Someone to help me when I mess up, or just to talk about my day. It feels like everyone else has that… but me. 

When I look around, I see my friends enjoying dinner with their parents. I try to distract myself by watching reels, but then I scroll and see people posting family pictures.

It was Father’s Day two days ago. Everyone was going out and celebrating, and here I was trying to find the age of Mary by solving linear equations. Haha, crazy night na?

As I watched myself from the outside, I wondered how many others like me are quietly struggling, their stories hidden behind everyday smiles. Growing up without parental support is like walking with invisible weights. The smallest things like school, dinner, waking up on time can become a big deal.

The absence of someone to guide you, to check in, to just be there… leaves a weird kind of emptiness. Sometimes, I feel like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders with juggling school, chores, and this constant pressure to not mess up. I can’t help but wonder why my world feels so different.

The emotional void left by a missing parent can be overwhelming. It makes you question your worth, your abilities. I start doubting if I can even trust people properly. Because when you grow up without steady support, you kind of train yourself not to expect it.

Insecurity keeps popping up, especially when simple decisions start feeling like mountain-sized challenges. Who do I ask for advice? Who do I trust with my fears? I often feel alone in my struggles, and the emotional load becomes just… too much.

It’s hard, yaar. Balancing personal stuff, controlling your emotions, and still trying to be “normal”, to laugh, to fit in, to seem okay.

Sometimes, a child just wants someone to see beyond their brave face. Like when someone casually asks, “What does your dad or mom do?”  and then immediately follows it up with “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” And I’m like, roz ka wahi “No, it’s fine” bolna. But is it really fine?

Still, despite all of this, I hold on to one thing, hope. Hope that someday I’ll find strength in these struggles. That the wounds will start to heal. I wish the world was a little kinder, a little more understanding towards kids like us.

Because we’re not just our struggles. We’re young souls trying to figure out life, fighting silent battles every single day.

Tomorrow’s a new day. I’ll try to face it with a little more courage and the reminder that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as alone as I feel.

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