You expect me to say.
Instead, you see me rudely turn away.
That's how it is, each and every day.
You never hear the barely audible words that escape my lips,
And you never look long enough to see them part.
You try every day, but so did I.
Each and every word felt like I was shoving a train car of elephants out of my chest,
Leaving me in a shaky, cold, and anxious ball of nervousness that I can't get myself out of.
When you look at me, I feel cornered, trapped,
As if you had locked me in a dark room deprived of oxygen.
I... Have always felt this way. So alone.
In a school full of people, on a street full of cars.
I've always been too quiet, too cold. Too antisocial.
No one noticed me, not even you.
I'm just a shadow in a dark corner of your room,
A leering burden that you don't care to notice unless you have to.
Don't look now, as I will be gone.
But it doesn't matter, because you never saw me anyway.
I said hi to you today. Even asked you how your day was. Maybe it was yesterday... I don't remember. You didn't hear me.
I spoke again, but you just stared off in space, oblivious to my awkward attempts at conversation.
People began to notice me repeating myself.
I got scared, and I shut back down, staring at the floor.
I went about my day, thinking about what happened.
I was embarrassed, and I still am.
I stuffed my face into my pillow and sighed.
I feel too scared to even leave my room now.
There's this feeling of dread in my stomach,
A deep, dark pool of anxiety for me to drown in and,
Unfortunately I can't swim.
You can't save me,
No one can.
No one ever notices or sees my pain.
I'm just the shy and quiet girl who doesn't talk to anyone.
I want to... But I can't..
I just can't!
And every time I do, every time I try,
It's a huge slap in the face, because no one pays enough attention to hear my cries for help.
What? What?!?! You ask me. I can't hear you, one more time sweetie.
After about the third or fourth time, I get exhausted.
I give up.
I say never mind.
You get angry, and I feel bad, guilty even.
How dare I make you angry.
I find myself crying at night over such small encounters.
I'm so Invisible.
Teachers, people, even friends.
We could be in a deep conversation and I would pipe up,
The whole table would jump, the whole classroom would stare.
Every one would swear,
That I wasn't ever there.
It's a shock, I know.
Seeing an invisible person every now and then.
The people who do get called crazy, because Invisible people can't really exist,
If you speak to me, that means you care enough to.
If you see me, that means you are not blind.
If you hear me, that means you listen well.
I am not dead, but I am a ghost.
If you can see me, you are not like most.
If I were dead, and a proper ghost, not much would change,
As my mind and soul would still be bound here by chains.
However, some stranger would be carving my name into a wooden post,
And the newest school project might be an army of innocent, weightless paper cranes.