With Age Comes…

As a kid I often felt invisible
As an adult I wish I could be invisible
As a kid I didn’t know my worth
As an adult I feel worthless
As a kid I was too shy to talk
As an adult I am too anxious to talk
As a kid I was a scaredy-cat
As an adult I have fears
I may have aged
but some things never seem to change

His Kindness Matters

She slowly pushed the knife

Through the juicy lemon

Slicing it to go into her water

It was another hot day

Humidity ruining her hair

She went to the porch

There was at least a breeze

So the shade wasn’t bad

And she sat on the swing

She lived for summer days at 4pm

That is when he walked by

She didn’t know his name

Only imagined his life

But he would smile at her

He would say hello

And she would feel

Like she mattered

If only for a moment

It was her best defense

From being invisible

And when summer was over

He would be gone

And she would once again

Be someone without notice

No Need For Harry’s Cloak

A lot of people say they wish they were invisible… it pisses off those of us who feel invisible.  Sure there would be a few benefits (probably more curses though – I mean do you REALLY want to know what others say about you?) but ask anyone who feels as insignificant as a grain of sand, invisible is no fun.

I am always the one to randomly send a post, letter or phone call to most of my friends.  Sometimes I wait for them to talk and find I am waiting so long I am sure they have forgotten who I am.  Even my partner comes home from work, shares his day and then will disappear into his own world forgetting I am here.  He will pass through and say hi when he needs a cigarette or something to drink.  I feel I am just a knick-knack on the counter only dusted when needed to be presentable on occasion.  Otherwise LONG ago forgotten as a new exciting find.

Growing up in the shadow of a sister who did well in school is just one of the ways I blended into the woodwork of my family too.  Living with an alcoholic for 20 years kept me isolated from family and friends a lot of my adult life.  And always being shy nailed the coffin shut on much of a social life.  So how do I make myself worthy of being seen?  Is it even worth it?

I don’t feel I have anything to offer.  These words are not the work of Shakespeare or Stephen King.  No one is going to see my name on the New York Times bestseller lists ever.  I take pictures, but will not grace National Geographic’s pages.   I craft but am far from any gallery displays.  Why would anyone go out of their way for insignificant me?

I am reminded of the musical Chicago and the song Mr Cellophane.  He sings of people looking right through him… that seems like a daily occurrence for me.  I guess it is just a basic need to feel that I matter somehow, someway, to at least someone.  I don’t want to change the world… just be a visible part of it.