"I Only Talk to My Guitar"
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I don't talk much.
Not because I want to be left alone. I've just never been good at saying the right things. Most of the time, it feels like I don't really fit anywhere anyway.
At school, I sit in the back, by the window. No one ever sits beside me. People don't really talk to me — not in a real way. And if they do, it's just in passing. A casual nod. A quiet "yo." Nothing that stays.
No one remembers me. Or at least… that's what I thought.
Sometimes I catch people glancing in my direction. Then they quickly look away. Maybe they think I'm weird. Or cold. Or both.
I guess I don't blame them.
It's easier to stay quiet when you don't think your words matter.
At home, it's the same. My parents are almost never around — always busy, always somewhere else. The house is big. Clean. Quiet. Lonely.
But when I pick up my guitar, it doesn't feel so empty.
It's old and a little scratched up, but it sounds better than anything I could ever say out loud. I started writing songs in middle school, just for myself at first. Then I started recording them, uploading them online under the name Nokikaze.
No one at school knows. I never told anyone.
Not that anyone would care.
But sometimes… people online do. Strangers leave kind comments. One even said:
> "This made me feel less alone."
I read that one a lot.
But I never reply. I don't know how to talk to people — not even when they're being kind.
I've never told anyone I make music. Not even the version of me who sits in the back row by the window, waiting for the day to end.
That version of me isn't someone people notice.
Or so I thought.
Because everything started to change the day she spoke to me.