I am an invisible man.
I can disappear and reappear at will. I can shout out something offensive and then proceed to disappear into my dark brooding corner for weeks upon weeks. I can shout, scream out my opinion, to the endless swarm of faces surrounding me, and no one will ever recognize me or remember me.
I am an invisible man. I know my self identity and my own self worth. I see the corrupt system, the self deprecating hypocrisies from the people around me. I loathe the system. I loathe the people unwilling to change. I loathe the never ending history that repeats itself over and over and over again.
Being an invisible man is a blessing. I can speak my mind without much consequence. I theorycraft ideas, I expand my intellect. I’m never going to have all the brain power in the world, but at least I can learn and grow.
I am an invisible man who misses something important. I see ideas with my eyes, but no voice to speak with. I can see the awful corruption of misinformation and hatred that the world has promoted, I scream and shout, praying for someone to hear me, someone to receive the message and free me from the blessing of being invisible.
I never cared for people with differing opinions than mine. I welcomed people with different opinions. I wanted people with different opinions to come and challenge me, challenge my ideals, but I’d always be left in the dust. Being an invisible man, no one can see me, or hear what I say.
I’m an invisible man, who’s always wanted to be seen. I’m an invisible man, who has always wanted to be acknowledged by the people around me. I’m different, I scream, I’m smart, I scream.
Because I am lonely.
I am a lonely invisible man. A man, who only wants to connect with the people around him. A man, who has wanted nothing but to talk with friends, who has wanted nothing but just the cathartic experience of two friends, talking together, no bullshit, no jokes, just the sound of the atmosphere and our voices filling the air.
Humans are social creatures. We can have as many ideas as we want to have, sing as loud as we can, play as hard as we can, and we can be so famously successful and brilliant, and yet we’ll still feel lonely, because we have no one to share that success with.
Maybe, if I trained harder, I would be acknowledged. Maybe if I got a solo in a choir concert I would be acknowledged. Maybe if I was a good writer I would be acknowledged, maybe if I could play cs better I would be acknowledged, respected as a person who was someone special.
I did outrageous things, I screamed, I wrote passionate outbursts, I sang heartfelt songs, but nobody came.
And then, suddenly, a light at the end of the tunnel, a hope, a reaction, something. A smile, a direct message, a comment, and for the first time in years, I was crying.
I am an invisible man. I will always be an invisible man, but maybe, just maybe, there are people willing to dream, willing to hope, willing to acknowledge who I am instead of the image that I strive to project.
Maybe, just maybe,
I don’t have to be invisible anymore.
