PEN

If I smile at a stranger while passing by, I’d seem weird… no, suspicious. But smiling at a phone or computer screen? That’s completely normal. Ah, how strange… Why do people think smiling at a phone is natural, when it might actually be stranger than smiling at someone’s face? Not for any particular reason… Just because I found their face pleasant… or their eyes beautiful… or maybe their aura felt so comforting that it made me smile. Or perhaps I smiled simply because I wanted to—a simple greeting.

But smiling in the same way on a phone? Hmm… that doesn’t make sense at all.

Still… what kind of smile are we talking about, anyway? That’s up to you. You can smile however you want. But what makes a smile look natural and not suspicious, huh?

I once heard someone say that the best smile is the one where your lower jaw is visible… I mean, the teeth of your lower jaw. So I decided to change the way I smile—not because I felt like an outcast or anything. I just wanted to try it. Can you imagine? I got pelted with stones. And as a weak girl who can barely run… Well, I could barely run. I was clutching my stomach, laughing so hard. I felt both stupid and entertained at the same time.

I think the people around me are wary of my presence. It’s just a feeling… because my personality shifts from being talkative to barely speaking at all. They always give me strange looks whenever I switch between the two. But that’s just me. I’ll go silent when I’m drained or when I’m around someone I can’t stand. And I’ll talk when I feel like I should.

People around me want me to show my true self.

Imagine we’re at a group dinner, and someone I find unbearable shows up. I’ll sit there in silence as they speak, feeling the weight of their words, eating normally, maybe throwing in a word here and there if necessary.

But my true self would tell me to do this while eating:“Ahhh… you’re exhausting. Your words are pure nonsense. Why did you even come? You smell like a rabid dog. I hate that you’re here.”

Do you think that’s what I should do? Maybe I should just stay silent, or would a little action add some spice to the dinner?

By the way, sometimes—quite often, actually—I cause chaos at gatherings. I love doing that.

I try hard to control my behavior according to what people call “normal.” I even stopped cursing a long time ago. But… there’s still something suspicious inside me.

I smile… and the beautiful thing is, I love my smile. And what’s even more beautiful is that many others used to love it too. I mean, they used to… I don’t smile anymore. Or rather, my smile has disappeared.

Something is happening inside me, and it’s unsettling. What’s even stranger is how often I feel my anger threatening to escape. And how, just as often, I smile—because I want it to escape. But… what kind of smile is that, exactly?

I have beautiful eyes, gentle expressions—that’s because I’m a beautiful woman. But that look in my eyes when I smile… that smile… my gaze seems to emerge from beneath my eyebrows. Or rather, I always see my own eyebrows whenever I look at someone that way. And without realizing it… I smile.

That time I smiled like that, my hands were trembling. I felt a heat surge through my body. Because I let my anger slip. Because I lost control.

Then I heard that idiot say, “What’s with that smile? You’re shaking with fear.”

Ah… well. I was scared, yes. But I was scared of what was going on in my own mind. At that moment, I felt that if I took even a single step forward, the darkness I had always kept hidden inside me would consume me. And that reckless fool? He just stood there laughing.

It’s a good thing I always snap back to my senses quickly.

He told me to apologize.

For what? For walking past him? Or because he slammed into my shoulder so hard?

I left him there, barking like a stray dog, and walked away, flexing my fingers as if to reassure myself they were still mine.

I don’t know… but with every step I took away from him, that feeling faded. And slowly, my usual energy returned.

I’ve never been in a real fight before.

The only time was back in middle school.

I kicked one of my classmates—hard. It’s a good thing we weren’t near the stairs. That idiot had taken advantage of my conversation with another classmate, thinking I wouldn’t notice, and touched me inappropriately.

I finished my conversation. Then I went after him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and called his name, “Why did you touch me?”

He laughed stupidly, saying, “Do you have proof?”

I didn’t think twice. I kicked him so hard that he fell to the ground. He looked furious—humiliated that a girl had hit him in front of his friends. He started cursing left and right. I left him there like the fool he was.

You know… for the rest of our middle school years, every time that idiot saw me, he changed his path.

At first, I didn’t even remember his face. Not until one day, my friend laughed while watching him sneak away and said, “He runs away every time he sees you.”

And my reaction?

“Who?”

I don’t remember people unless I’ve met them more than three times.

I don’t even remember my old classmates—the ones I studied with for years. Not their names, not their faces. I can recall maybe two or three people at most. That’s why people say I’m arrogant. But I don’t focus on faces in class. I focus on the lesson.

The same applies to my teachers. Throughout all my years of studying, I remember only three of them—including my university professors. I focus on what I want. If I want to study, I focus on studying.

But lately… something is strange.

My focus is increasing. No—getting worse. There’s constant noise around me. No silence. And it infuriates me.

The voices keep getting louder.

The breathing of those around me.

Their words.

Their movements.

I take them all in at once.

And it makes me angry.

Because I think—most of the time, my actions are quiet.

And yet, somehow… I still seem suspicious.