Shut up, no one cares. “Why are you so quiet?”  “You’re fine… | by Martina | Aug, 2025

“Why are you so quiet?”
“You’re fine, just… you’re always so silent.”
“Why don’t you ever talk about yourself?”

All those came from the same person — my so-called best friend.
But the one that broke me was:
“Shut up. Nobody cares. You’re not important.”

After that, I stopped talking.
Not just about how I felt — but about everything.
It became a habit to say “I’m fine,” even when I wasn’t.
She didn’t know my favorite color. She didn’t know my dog’s name. She didn’t even know I hadn’t seen my dad in five years.

One time, I actually told her why I don’t see him.
The next time we spoke, she asked me, “So, when are you going to visit your dad?”

I just looked at her and said, “I don’t know.”
That was the moment I realized — there’s no point.
She either forgot what I said, or she never listened at all.

And somehow, “shut up, nobody cares” got stuck in my head.
I truly stopped sharing anything about myself.

That friendship had a long history. And it was deeply toxic.
She was a manipulator, though I couldn’t see it at first.

Let’s call her Mia.
Mia’s best friend had moved away, and suddenly she had no one.
Even though we didn’t get along before — we had actually spent years fighting — we started hanging out. I became her backup.

I was even part of teasing her with another girl that summer — something I was pressured into. I didn’t want to be left out. I felt bad, but I also didn’t… because Mia had always been mean.

But then we got close. She seemed sweet.
A year went by. Then summer came again.

One day, we made plans to go out together with another girl, Martha. But Mia canceled last minute and went out with someone else.
We understood. She explained it.

But later, she left our group chat. When we asked why, she said I hadn’t said hi to her when we ran into her that day.
The truth was — I did say hi. I’m just quiet.
She didn’t hear me. And somehow, that turned into drama.

She said we didn’t want to be friends anymore.
Eventually, we made up. Everything seemed fine.

But when the school year started, something changed.
She looked at me differently. Cold. Judging.

Another fight happened — one I still don’t understand.
I just know she didn’t get her way.

I called her, holding back tears, and apologized even though I didn’t know what I did wrong.
I didn’t want to lose the friendship.

Later, we had a group call — me, Mia, and Martha — and they told me that crying was “pathetic.”

Still, we made up again. Things looked normal.
But then she started using me for money.
One day at school, she told me I “owed” her for making fun of her last summer.

I was confused. Why bring it up now? Why like this?

A month later, just before my birthday, I fell into depression.
Nobody noticed.

The longer time passed, the worse my mental health got.
And now I finally understand how deeply their words got into my head.

They made me believe I was unimportant.
They made me believe that crying was something to be ashamed of.

But it’s not.
Crying means I cared. It means I still believed in friendship.