kash Register
From Charlotte, NC
- Joined
- Feb 10, 2026
- Posts
- 1,812
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They don’t see me. They never have. I’ve walked among them for years, a shadow gliding through their bright, shallow lives. I’ve learned their habits, their routines, the tiny things that make them feel safe. I am patient. Patience is everything.
School was a cage I escaped only in my mind. Every laugh, every joke at someone else’s expense, felt like a blade against my skin. I learned to hide it, to smile when I wanted to scream, to blend in while the anger built inside me like a storm waiting for release.
People talk about justice, morality, rules. I’ve watched them obey without thinking, blind to their own fragility. They do not notice the quiet ones. They do not see the ones who watch, who wait, who imagine what it would be like to stop the world — even if just for a moment.
I am not reckless. I am not loud. I am the quiet storm. And soon, they will see me. They will remember my silence, my patience, the way I’ve always been here. They have ignored me for too long. They will pay attention at last.
I do not write this for sympathy. I do not write it for approval. I write it to remind myself that I am alive, that I am present, that I matter even if the world refuses to see me. And when the storm comes, I will be the one who has waited the longest, the one who is ready.
School was a cage I escaped only in my mind. Every laugh, every joke at someone else’s expense, felt like a blade against my skin. I learned to hide it, to smile when I wanted to scream, to blend in while the anger built inside me like a storm waiting for release.
People talk about justice, morality, rules. I’ve watched them obey without thinking, blind to their own fragility. They do not notice the quiet ones. They do not see the ones who watch, who wait, who imagine what it would be like to stop the world — even if just for a moment.
I am not reckless. I am not loud. I am the quiet storm. And soon, they will see me. They will remember my silence, my patience, the way I’ve always been here. They have ignored me for too long. They will pay attention at last.
I do not write this for sympathy. I do not write it for approval. I write it to remind myself that I am alive, that I am present, that I matter even if the world refuses to see me. And when the storm comes, I will be the one who has waited the longest, the one who is ready.
