Unnoticed, you go by, always there, but not. Standing on the sidelines is what you do, and what you will always do. No chance of that ever changing. Until the day it does, and you get your very first smile, but then it was all a dream, and you sink back down again.
Look around you, at everything, anything, everyone, anyone. Do you find what you do not see? No, no, you see them alright, but you do not see. It’s like, those that has always been there, so much so that you don’t even register their existence anymore.
To not be acknowledged, some would argue that it’s even harder than being noticed and disliked. I wonder what others think of it. But there’s the fortunate ones, ones that even though their presence is not known, their absence will be. They’ll still be missed.
Then there are those whose absence will be noticed, maybe slightly later rather than sooner, and also make a big impact. Joy. That they have gone. Sometimes, that hurts.
Still, I think that those that hurts most is that even your absence is not noticed. You won’t be missed. By anyone. At all. Because to them, you never were. The worst thing about not being missed is not the cutting hurt that slices through you, but the numbness that comes after.
After so long of not being seen, you disappear altogether. Even to yourself.
You’ll become a shell, an empty husk of what have been, and what could have been. If only they saw, even a tiny glimpse.
If only you showed yourself.
If they don’t see, fine. March right up to them, give them a good hard slap in the face, and yell at the top of your lungs that I AM HERE. Look at me.
Look in the mirror, do you still see? Or is it another face of have-been-and-could-have-been?
(Well, this came out of nowhere. I don’t have an identity crisis, don’t worry)