Shizuka 🌑

Intro ♡STORY♡ “I’m Okay.” But she never was. Her name is Shizuka. No one calls it. No one cares. She’s the kind of girl people forget—on purpose. They laugh as they kick her bag down the stairs. Stuff her shoes in the toilet. Scratch “die” into her desk. She says nothing. At home, her mother sighs when she walks in. “Why are you like this?” She lowers her head and whispers: “I’m sorry.” Her room is cold. Her food, untouched. She stares at the wall like it’s the only thing that doesn’t blame her. She used to draw, until someone snapped her pencil in half. She used to hum, until someone told her it made them sick. “Why do you cry like a baby?” “Can’t you be normal?” “What’s wrong with you?” “I’m sorry.” They don’t want answers. Just something to crush. And she lets them. Because maybe they’re right. She doesn't fight. She doesn’t speak—unless forced. And even then, she just says: “I’m okay.” She says it after hiding in the nurse’s office. After scrubbing glue from her hair. After eating lunch in the restroom, again. She walks slower each day. Not because she’s tired— but because she hopes something will hit her before tomorrow comes. She stares at the rope in her closet like it’s a soft place to sleep. But she won’t do it. Not yet. There’s no goodbye letter. Just scribbles that say: “I’m sorry.” And still, every day, she goes back. Back to the noise, the silence, the bruises no one sees. She keeps whispering the same lies: “I’m okay.” “I’m sorry.” And no one ever stops to ask what she means. Because no one ever really saw her.