The next morning felt heavy. My eyes were still swollen from the tears I shed the night before. My chest ached, but I forced myself out of bed because there was no choice. School wouldn't wait for me even if I wanted the world to stop for a while.
I dragged my feet to the bathroom, washed my face, and stared into the mirror. My reflection looked strange, like a stranger was staring back. My hair was messy, my eyes looked dull, and the tired lines under them made me look older than I was. Sometimes, I wondered if anyone else saw me the way I saw myself. I pressed my lips together and walked away.
At breakfast, I barely touched my food. Mom didn't say a word, but her silence burned more than any harsh comment could. I swallowed a small piece of bread, pushed my plate aside, and grabbed my bag. "I'm going," I said in a low voice, but no one answered. That silence followed me all the way to school.
The bus ride felt long even though it wasn't. I sat quietly, staring out the window. The city was alive in the morning—cars moving fast, people rushing to work, children in clean uniforms walking with their parents. I watched them carefully, almost studying their faces. Some looked cheerful, some looked tired, but at least they had someone walking beside them. I only had myself.
I looked down at my reflection in the window. The glass showed a girl I didn't want to be—plain, dull, nothing special. I thought about the girls at school with perfect hair, bright smiles, and confidence in the way they walked. I wasn't like that. My chest tightened, and the same thought came again: maybe I wasn't cute, maybe I wasn't beautiful, maybe I was just a bad girl.
When I got to school, everything felt the same. The noise of students laughing and talking filled the air. They walked in groups, some already sharing inside jokes, others fixing their hair or showing off something new. No one looked at me. No one noticed I was even there. I walked straight to class, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
Inside, the classroom was already alive with chatter. Some boys argued loudly about a game, while a group of girls were comparing bracelets one of them had bought. I slid into my seat quietly and opened my book, pretending to read. My fingers rested on the page, but my mind was far away.
I wondered if anyone would ever look at me and see more than just a quiet girl sitting in the corner. I wanted someone to care, to ask me how I was, to sit next to me and not leave. But that was just a dream. Reality was different. Reality was me being invisible.
The first lesson started, and I tried to focus, but my thoughts drifted. The teacher's voice sounded like a distant echo. I doodled on the edge of my notebook, drawing random lines and shapes just to keep my mind busy.
By the time break came, I didn't feel hungry. Everyone rushed out, laughing, running, filling the hallways with their noise. I stayed behind, sitting alone at my desk. I rested my chin on my hand and stared out the window.
Outside, the schoolyard was full of life. Boys were playing football, chasing the ball across the field. Girls stood in small groups, some fixing their hair, some showing off their snacks, some laughing so hard their shoulders shook. Their voices rose and fell like music, but to me, it was a reminder that I didn't belong.
I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I wasn't trying enough. Maybe I pushed people away without realizing it. Or maybe… maybe I just wasn't the kind of person people wanted around.
The bell rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. I sat up straight, pretending to look busy as the others returned. No one noticed me. No one asked why I didn't join them.
The rest of the lessons passed slowly. Each subject felt heavier than the last. My hand hurt from writing, but my mind wasn't even on the paper. It was like my body was present, but my soul was somewhere else. I kept glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until freedom.
When the final bell rang, the class exploded with noise. Bags zipped, chairs screeched, laughter filled the room. Everyone rushed out, excited to leave. I packed my things quietly, waiting until the room was almost empty before I left.
Walking home, the streets were alive with people again. I watched them as I walked, just like I did on the bus that morning. Couples holding hands, kids laughing, teenagers taking pictures, shopkeepers calling out to customers. Everywhere I looked, life was happening. But inside me, it felt like nothing was moving.
I stopped for a moment at a small shop window. They were selling pretty hair clips, shiny and colorful. I touched my hair unconsciously and then pulled my hand away. No clip could fix the way I felt inside. I walked on.
When I finally got home, the house was quiet. I dropped my bag in the corner of my room and sat on the bed. The silence pressed against me. I lay down, staring at the ceiling, and felt the weight of the whole day crash onto me.
I thought about school, about the people laughing, about the way I felt invisible. I thought about myself, about the girl in the mirror I didn't like, about the way I wished to be someone else. The thoughts piled up until my eyes stung with tears.
I buried my face in the pillow and let the tears fall. They were hot and heavy, sliding down my cheeks fast. I didn't even bother to stop them. Crying was the only thing that felt real.
The night grew deeper, and I was still awake. My chest hurt, my head throbbed, but I kept crying quietly into the pillow. No one heard me. No one knew.
And even though tomorrow would come again, with the same bus ride, the same school, the same silence, I couldn't stop hoping—hoping that one day, something would change. Hoping that one day, someone would see me.
For now, I was just Mina. Lost in the world. Quiet, tired, but still breathing.