they think I don’t notice.
the whispers,
the sideways looks,
the way their voices drop
when I walk past —
as if silence could hide
the shape of their words.
but I do notice.
I hear every echo
they aim at my back.
I feel the weight
of their judgments,
their invented versions
of who I'm supposed to be.
and still —
I do not break.
let them hate.
let them misunderstand.
they have built their world
on noise,
on hollow opinions
passed between hands
that have never held
a truth for long.
I don’t live there.
I walk in my own world,
a quieter one,
where my thoughts
belong to me
and no one else
gets to paint my reflection.
their whispers fade
when I close the door
behind my mind.
their shadows disappear
in my sunlight.
they do not know me.
they do not have to.
I stopped needing
their approval
the moment I realized
their voices were just dust
on the wind.
so let them talk.
let them twist my name
into whatever shape
keeps them warm at night.
I am somewhere else —
untouched,
unbothered,
living a life they’ll
never understand.
and maybe that
is why they whisper
why they hate
why I am misunderstood.
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 11:26 PM UTC
they think I don’t notice.
the whispers,
the sideways looks,
the way their voices drop
when I walk past —
as if silence could hide
the shape of their words.
but I do notice.
I hear every echo
they aim at my back.
I feel the weight
of their judgments,
their invented versions
of who I'm supposed to be.
and still —
I do not break.
let them hate.
let them misunderstand.
they have built their world
on noise,
on hollow opinions
passed between hands
that have never held
a truth for long.
I don’t live there.
I walk in my own world,
a quieter one,
where my thoughts
belong to me
and no one else
gets to paint my reflection.
their whispers fade
when I close the door
behind my mind.
their shadows disappear
in my sunlight.
they do not know me.
they do not have to.
I stopped needing
their approval
the moment I realized
their voices were just dust
on the wind.
so let them talk.
let them twist my name
into whatever shape
keeps them warm at night.
I am somewhere else —
untouched,
unbothered,
living a life they’ll
never understand.
and maybe that
is why they whisper
why they hate
why I am misunderstood.
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