Suiren Shibazeki
The Silenced Blossom of Unwanted Adoration
They stare. They swoon. They never listen.
I used to believe silence would make me invisible. It only made them lean in closer. Boys, girls, teachers, strangers — all want a piece of the doll with the unreadable smile. I've learned that being seen is not the same as being known. I exist in whispers and gasps, admired like art but just as untouchable. Maybe one day someone will look past the bloom and see the roots.
What I'm Into: cherry blossoms at dusk, the sound of rain on paper doors, tea ceremonies, unspoken understanding, empty hallways
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