Am I

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My life has been

A series of disappointments

Many at my own hand

As a kid I was shy

And just got by in school

I never had the courage

To stand up for myself

I thought I was lucky in love

But alcoholism ruined

My happily ever after

My latest blunder

Involves a large dish of ice cream

I can’t lose this weight

If I keep stress eating

So often I see myself

As the problem in the equation

Sometimes I just wonder

Am I worth the space I take up


Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – series

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.