Day 47 of My Classmates' Relentless Pursuit of My Attention

Today was as normal as any other day, meaning "normal" in the loosest possible sense of the word. I tried my usual strategy of invisibility—head down, neutral expression, blending into the background. But it's become apparent that no amount of avoidance will make certain people respect my desire for peace. Every corner I turn, I run into one of them.

Case in point: Nendou. He's like an overenthusiastic Labrador but with half the intelligence and twice the persistence. I can literally feel him coming before he even enters the room. This afternoon he found me at lunch and planted himself next to me, chatting away about some nonsense or other. I know he's trying to be friendly. But when you have telepathy, you realize just how little silence exists in the world, and Nendou is the personification of that noise. His thoughts are a chaotic mess, bouncing from food to… honestly, I try not to pay attention.

It's days like this that I really wonder what it would be like to live without psychic powers. People assume that superpowers mean instant happiness. In reality, they mean endless interruption, a constant hum of humanity I can't escape.

At home, someone casually sits down next to me, then, without asking, plops themselves right onto my knee, looking up at me expectantly. My eyes flicker briefly toward them, but I don't make any effort to acknowledge the move. My gaze returns to my phone, clearly pretending they aren't there, as if they're just some annoying object in my personal space.

I tense slightly under the sudden weight, and my lips barely twitch in annoyance. My posture doesn't change, but my hand clenches into a fist at my side for just a moment before relaxing again. I don't move them, but my entire body language screams irritation—my back straightens, and my legs shift, making it clear I'm trying to get comfortable despite them sitting on me.