Involuntary Invisibility
It is always depressing to learn how unnecessary you are. And for some reason, it's always a shock.
You get to work, and you find that not only are you not needed, but you don't know what's going on there anyway. They do everything without telling you. You don't even get a schedule anymore. You have to ask for it.
You get home and all the lights are off. Everyone is asleep. No one waits up. No one asks you how your day was.
You call your friend, the one that insists he has no life. He's out. Where could he possibly be? Out with the quirky blonde? Asleep? In the shower? Out of town? Whatever it is, he's too busy to take your call, you loser. He doesn't want to hear about your boring day anyway.
Your classmates don't really need your input on your project. They could probably do it without you without much difficulty. You're really just taking up space.
Your family hasn't called in almost two months, and you even had a birthday in there somewhere. Not that they would remember. Or care.
Even your bedroom doesn't look like you've been there. It looks like storage.
Your phone isn't ringing, you have no mail, and your e-mail inbox is empty too. Except for that mass e-mail that Victoria's Secret sent you to remind you that you don't need sexy bras, even if they are 20% off.
Unnecessary. Dispensable. Unwanted. Unneeded. A memory. An afterthought. What ever happened to that weird girl with the glasses? She was almost pretty. If only her boobs were bigger. She was so strange. Is she even still alive?
Yes, she's there. She's the ghost that comes in an out and no one notices or cares. She might be standing right in front of you and you wouldn't even know it. She would scream and you wouldn't hear it. It's amazing invisibility. There is no cure. People will never see you. They see past you. Or worse, through you.
You get to work, and you find that not only are you not needed, but you don't know what's going on there anyway. They do everything without telling you. You don't even get a schedule anymore. You have to ask for it.
You get home and all the lights are off. Everyone is asleep. No one waits up. No one asks you how your day was.
You call your friend, the one that insists he has no life. He's out. Where could he possibly be? Out with the quirky blonde? Asleep? In the shower? Out of town? Whatever it is, he's too busy to take your call, you loser. He doesn't want to hear about your boring day anyway.
Your classmates don't really need your input on your project. They could probably do it without you without much difficulty. You're really just taking up space.
Your family hasn't called in almost two months, and you even had a birthday in there somewhere. Not that they would remember. Or care.
Even your bedroom doesn't look like you've been there. It looks like storage.
Your phone isn't ringing, you have no mail, and your e-mail inbox is empty too. Except for that mass e-mail that Victoria's Secret sent you to remind you that you don't need sexy bras, even if they are 20% off.
Unnecessary. Dispensable. Unwanted. Unneeded. A memory. An afterthought. What ever happened to that weird girl with the glasses? She was almost pretty. If only her boobs were bigger. She was so strange. Is she even still alive?
Yes, she's there. She's the ghost that comes in an out and no one notices or cares. She might be standing right in front of you and you wouldn't even know it. She would scream and you wouldn't hear it. It's amazing invisibility. There is no cure. People will never see you. They see past you. Or worse, through you.
posted by Ocean | 11:55 PM
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