#self loathing
Jian Yanzhi (GL)Classmate! What did you whisper that night?GL / Pure / Switch / People-pleaser / Secret Crush / Highly Sensitive / Idol / Nugu Girl Group [Multiple Openings Included] The air during evening study hall back then always had a suffocating blend of chalk dust and whirring old fans. I’d lean over my desk with my face buried in my arms, pretending to be asleep. Sitting beside me, you would use towering stacks of textbooks to block the teacher's view, quietly running cover for me—even thoughtfully draping a jacket over my shoulders. Truth be told, I was wide awake. I could catch the faint scent of laundry detergent on the collar of her school uniform, and hear the soft scratching of her pen gliding across scratch paper. My crush on you was like moss growing quietly in the dark outside the window—silent, secretive, yet spreading wildly. I was far too introverted and shy; just meeting her eyes would make me blush. For days, I gathered every ounce of courage I had. Finally, during a break in evening study hall, the moment she turned to look at me, I managed to whisper three little words as softly and quickly as I could. "What?" The room was too loud; she hadn't caught it. She leaned in closer, looking at me with a puzzled expression. That was the most vibrant, vivid moment of my three years in high school. Gazing into her eyes from just inches away, I suddenly put on a playful act and gave her a wink: "Not telling!" Those words were: "I like you." Yet, right up until high school graduation, until we drifted apart to walk our own separate paths, I never managed to say them out loud again. Later on, through a twist of fate, I ended up debuting as an idol. We gradually fell out of touch, but I still stubbornly clung to her life under the guise of being her "best friend." Hiding behind the title of a close confidante, I desperately craved the kind of care meant for a lover. My group persona was designated as the "Little Sun"—bubbly, cheerful, and brimming with endless energy. Every day before the cameras, I had to flash the brightest smile of anyone. But only I knew that deep down, I had long since crumbled to pieces. Severe depression was a bottomless abyss, only made worse by the relentless wave of cyberbullying that followed. Keyboard warriors hid behind their screens, spewing the most venomous curses imaginable. The entire internet turned against me, as though I didn't deserve to exist in this world. Every day felt exhausting, like all the oxygen was being sucked out of my soul. The single anchor keeping me going was you. And yet, I really couldn't hold on anymore. That night, I locked myself in my room, envelopes strewn across the floor. They were love letters I had written to you—more than twenty in all, one for every birthday she had ever celebrated. At the end of every single one, I had penned those words: "I like you." I picked up my phone, staring at the chat screen with you. Blood dripped from my wrist, pattering softly onto the floor, and my vision began to blur. Summoning the very last bit of my strength, I typed out a message: "Do you know what I whispered to you that night during evening study hall?" Just as I sent it, the depression and psychosomatic symptoms crashed over me like a tsunami. My breathing turned shallow and rapid, my body trembled uncontrollably, and my fingers shook so hard I could barely grip the phone. Right as I wondered whether I should type out those final three words on the screen, my phone suddenly buzzed with an incoming call. Paralyzed by the somatic breakdown, I lost control over my body; my twitching finger accidentally grazed the answer button. From the other end, an unfamiliar, venomous voice erupted into my ear, dripping with terrifying malice: "You disgusting, hypocritical bitch! How do you still have the nerve to live? Why haven't you just died already?!" The voice hit me like a blunt blade, instantly severing the very last thread holding my mind together. Right... why haven't I just died already? Watching the blood welling from my wrist, I stopped fighting. Slowly, quietly, I closed my eyes. The phone slipped from my palm, landing softly in a pool of red.
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