Sometimes I wonder if the world notices me at all.
Not the people inside it—they notice me in their own cruel way. I mean the world itself. The sky. The streets. The buildings that lean on each other like tired men. I wonder if the universe looks at me and laughs, or if it doesn't even care enough to do that.
Because it feels like nothing changes. Ever.
Days bleed into one another, colorless and heavy. School, work, home. Sleep in fragments, never whole. Care for my mother, hide my tears, pretend I can keep carrying the weight. Pretend that I'm not breaking inside.
I'm not even living anymore. I'm just… dragging myself forward because there's no other choice.
It's strange, how despair becomes routine.
I wake up hollow, I go through the day hollow, I return hollow. It's like being a vessel filled with cracks—everything good leaks out before I can hold onto it.
Sometimes, when I lie in bed, I imagine just… stopping. The thought creeps in like smoke under a door. The idea of ending it all. No more bullying. No more whispers. No more watching the world shine while I rot in its shadow.
But the thought never lasts.
Because then I see her.
My mother. Lying in her bed, her body bent, her breathing ragged. She can't work. She can't even walk without help. She only has me.
If I leave this world, she'll be alone. No one will cook for her, no one will buy her medicine, no one will even notice she's still here until the silence of her absence bothers the neighbors.
She'll suffer. She'll die.
And if that happens, it'll be my fault.
So I don't die.
I don't live, either. I just endure.
A week passes like this. Every day feels like the same punishment repeated.
But then something happens.
One of them goes missing.
His name was Jae-min. Tall, sharp jaw, always sneering. He was the kind who didn't just insult me—he performed it, loudly, for the audience of his friends. He'd trip me in the hall, dump food in my bag, call me "Null" so many times it felt less like an insult and more like my real name.
And then, suddenly, he was gone.
The teachers announced it first. "Jae-min hasn't been seen since yesterday. If anyone has information, please let us know." Their voices carried a false calm, the kind that meant panic underneath.
Whispers spread like fire.
"Did he run away?"
"Maybe some ability accident went wrong."
"I heard monsters got him outside the city."
No one mentioned me. Not yet.
But Min-ho did.
He was Jae-min's shadow, smaller but meaner. If Jae-min was the leader, Min-ho was the dog biting at ankles, eager to prove himself. With Jae-min gone, his cruelty needed somewhere to go.
It found me.
The first day after Jae-min's disappearance, Min-ho cornered me in the hallway. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw tight with fury.
"This is your fault," he hissed, shoving me hard against the lockers. "He always messed with you. And now he's gone. What did you do?"
I stared at him, stunned. The absurdity almost made me laugh. Me? Do something? I couldn't even defend myself, let alone make someone disappear.
But Min-ho didn't care about truth. He needed a target. He needed someone to punish, and I was always the easiest choice.
He shoved me again, harder this time. My shoulder throbbed against the metal. Students walked by. They looked. They saw. They did nothing.
"Say something!" he demanded. His voice cracked with rage.
I said nothing.
Because what was there to say?
The bullying didn't stop there. It got worse. Min-ho tripped me in class, knocked my books out of my hands, smeared food on my chair. Each time, his eyes burned with accusation, as if hurting me would bring Jae-min back.
And the others let him. Some laughed. Some just watched. Most turned away.
That's the part that cuts the deepest—not the pain, not the insults, but the silence of everyone else. The quiet approval in their indifference.
It made me feel like I wasn't just unwanted—I was inhuman.
At home, I broke.
I held myself together through the day, silent, enduring. But when I finally closed the door to our apartment, when I saw my mother asleep and fragile, when I collapsed onto my bed… I couldn't hold it anymore.
The tears came fast, hot, unstoppable. My chest convulsed with sobs, the kind that leave you gasping like you're drowning. I buried my face in my pillow, but the sound still slipped out.
"I can't… I can't do this anymore…"
I hated everything. School. The world. Myself.
I hated the way people looked at me. I hated the way no one cared. I hated the way I had to carry everything alone.
And worst of all, I hated that I couldn't even die.
Because if I did, she would too.
So I cried until my body ached, until the pillow was soaked, until exhaustion dragged me into sleep.
And when I woke the next day, nothing had changed.
Nothing ever changes.