I am Invisible

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Abstract

Not heard Not felt Not understood Not Not Not I’m a monumental cluster of nots Knotted into an oversized ball of nothingness. It’s amazing — actually, How Not-ish I am.When I feel I am screaming, When I’m roaring out loud, When my laughter begs for someone to join me in a joyous sound, I quickly realize I should have continued suppressing, Since no one hears me Or feels me…Life as an invisible woman is crazy I feel crazy! Am I crazy? A little crazy…???Sometimes…When people approach me, They see what they want to see — Whether that be figments of their imagination, Or the surroundings.Sometimes it seems I am a mirror, Where they can see themselves But never me. Nope, not me. Because I am invisible. Overlooked. Ignored. Unseen.Sometimes, it's puzzling.I feel that my feet are firmly planted, Yet, it seems my identity has drifted away, Levitated somehow, or found solace in some distant unknow

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n place. Maybe the ether??? Either way, It seems to have left me. And now, I’m just an invisible woman, Disregarded, unseen.When people speak, They speak around me, Never directly to me. And when I try to interject my opinion, They don’t get louder, The rhythm of their language is unbothered. They don’t even shift to acknowledge my presence. They only show me their backs. Lots of, backs. They just keep talking.And talking. And talking. And talking. Talking!Their words pass through me. Straight through me. Not even bothering to stick to me. Even with words, I seem to be imperceptible.At one point, I spoke And I looked up to see if anyone could hear me. And someone seemed to look at me — Straight at me! I felt a tinge of excitement at finally being seen!But then a covering passed over their eyes, and I realized There's no magic in my words, after all, I am invisible. Inconsequential. An invisible woman, That’s me.</article></body>

I am Invisible

I am invisible. Not because I don’t exist. In fact, the pinch test I just performed Is evidence that I am a real woman… Blood, flesh, and bone — People just simply refuse to see me. Sometimes, I can't even see myself. I’ve looked into the mirror and I’ve seen no reflection. No one looks back… I have no substance Despite being made of clay, I appear to be nothing But a figment of my own wild imaginations.

For years I have pondered why I am so easily forgotten… Why I was not remembered?

People look through me Past me Around me Under me Over me Between me (is that even a possibility??)

Am I not here? Am I not living?

It doesn’t seem to matter what I do. I’m not seen Not heard Not felt Not understood Not Not Not I’m a monumental cluster of nots Knotted into an oversized ball of nothingness. It’s amazing — actually, How Not-ish I am.

When I feel I am screaming, When I’m roaring out loud, When my laughter begs for someone to join me in a joyous sound, I quickly realize I should have continued suppressing, Since no one hears me Or feels me…

Life as an invisible woman is crazy I feel crazy! Am I crazy? A little crazy…???

Sometimes…

When people approach me, They see what they want to see — Whether that be figments of their imagination, Or the surroundings.

Sometimes it seems I am a mirror, Where they can see themselves But never me. Nope, not me. Because I am invisible. Overlooked. Ignored. Unseen.

Sometimes, it's puzzling.

I feel that my feet are firmly planted, Yet, it seems my identity has drifted away, Levitated somehow, or found solace in some distant unknown place. Maybe the ether??? Either way, It seems to have left me. And now, I’m just an invisible woman, Disregarded, unseen.

When people speak, They speak around me, Never directly to me. And when I try to interject my opinion, They don’t get louder, The rhythm of their language is unbothered. They don’t even shift to acknowledge my presence. They only show me their backs. Lots of, backs. They just keep talking.

And talking. And talking. And talking. Talking!

Their words pass through me. Straight through me. Not even bothering to stick to me. Even with words, I seem to be imperceptible.

At one point, I spoke And I looked up to see if anyone could hear me. And someone seemed to look at me — Straight at me! I felt a tinge of excitement at finally being seen!

But then a covering passed over their eyes, and I realized There's no magic in my words, after all, I am invisible. Inconsequential. An invisible woman, That’s me.