ArchieTheFel
Born to ":3", forced to "Hi, welcome to the store"
I've recently come to terms with the fact that nobody can see me. If you've ever heard the phrase "a fly on the wall", that description matches my existence perfectly.
It started when I was young; I was always quiet, and liked to keep to myself. At that time, however, I was still seen by people. Namely, family would shower me with affection whenever given the chance, but that's when I was still considered cute. Eventually, I grew out of that stage--as everyone does--and I inevitably began my questioning phase. I would ask many questions pertaining to whatever dilemma was presented to me at the time. My family was extremely religious during my younger years, and it didn't take long before I began wondering if a god was really all that plausible. But, for the most part, I only questioned the smaller things.
Of course, certain questions did tend to get me into plenty of trouble. Maybe I had asked about a particularly sensitive subject to whoever I was talking to at the time, and would be greeted with an aggressive attitude. Otherwise, I'd be questioning authority and throw tantrums, like any young child does. To these, however, I'd be met with more severe punishments. I was quite familiar to the threat of spankings and cold showers, but being surrounded by both religion and conservatism it was easy to think that this was normal, and that my behavior constituted corporal punishment. However I decided to justify it, it inevitably forced me to shut my mouth tighter. I chose to stay quiet in what many would call shyness, and to an extent I'd agree, but in truth it was likely a subconscious fear of torment should I utter something the adults deemed unfavorable.
Quietness and isolation eventually led to lack of proper social skills, and an inability to express myself properly. I would turn to art and daydreaming to escape my surroundings and create a world where there was no punishment. I think that in doing so is where I began to disappear in the eyes of others--I slowly started to become invisible.
I only noticed it a little at first. I would go to speak and be spoken over, or maybe I would make a gesture to be noticed and nobody would look in my direction until I was forced to be loud or incessant. This only taught me that maybe asking for attention wasn't proper, and I saw myself disappear more.
Soon, I could slip away and nobody would come looking for a long while, or maybe I'd stand in the corner during a party or gathering and nobody would look at me. It was when I entered high school that my affliction truly became noticeable.
I would walk between the crowds of students in the hallways; I would watch as friends gathered before classes or during lunch, laughing and joking together. I would yearn for that kind of connection. I would even attempt to make a few friends, but they either couldn't see me or chose not to. I think they chose not to because they could tell I was going to disappear anyhow.
One day, I finally succeeded in making a new friend. Someone who was almost entirely invisible, like me--we could see each other perfectly. Then, I made another friend, a visible one. They could barely see me, but we made up for lack of vision in our conversations. I finally felt like I could be seen, and slowly I watched myself become more visible. It didn't last long, unfortunately.
One day, I knew something was different about myself. My favorite color had always been pink, ever since I was little. But on this day, I woke up and discovered that pink looked different, now. I could no longer see myself wearing it, and I couldn't relate to it in any way. I found out that my favorite color was now blue, and I was overjoyed to be able to know myself. I excitedly told my friends how I'd found out about my new favorite color.
Suddenly, I was more invisible than before. I continued to slowly grow more and more invisible each day, and for a while it made me sad. I wished people could see me as much as they see others, but now I've grown to accept it. I'm simply a fly on the wall, and one that nobody cares to acknowledge, but maybe they just can't. And now I sit here, wondering if these words will be visible to anyone at all. Maybe my fingers will just pass straight through the keyboard as I type, and I won't know until it's not seen. Maybe it'll be seen, but not understood.
I wonder if I'll die invisible.
It started when I was young; I was always quiet, and liked to keep to myself. At that time, however, I was still seen by people. Namely, family would shower me with affection whenever given the chance, but that's when I was still considered cute. Eventually, I grew out of that stage--as everyone does--and I inevitably began my questioning phase. I would ask many questions pertaining to whatever dilemma was presented to me at the time. My family was extremely religious during my younger years, and it didn't take long before I began wondering if a god was really all that plausible. But, for the most part, I only questioned the smaller things.
Of course, certain questions did tend to get me into plenty of trouble. Maybe I had asked about a particularly sensitive subject to whoever I was talking to at the time, and would be greeted with an aggressive attitude. Otherwise, I'd be questioning authority and throw tantrums, like any young child does. To these, however, I'd be met with more severe punishments. I was quite familiar to the threat of spankings and cold showers, but being surrounded by both religion and conservatism it was easy to think that this was normal, and that my behavior constituted corporal punishment. However I decided to justify it, it inevitably forced me to shut my mouth tighter. I chose to stay quiet in what many would call shyness, and to an extent I'd agree, but in truth it was likely a subconscious fear of torment should I utter something the adults deemed unfavorable.
Quietness and isolation eventually led to lack of proper social skills, and an inability to express myself properly. I would turn to art and daydreaming to escape my surroundings and create a world where there was no punishment. I think that in doing so is where I began to disappear in the eyes of others--I slowly started to become invisible.
I only noticed it a little at first. I would go to speak and be spoken over, or maybe I would make a gesture to be noticed and nobody would look in my direction until I was forced to be loud or incessant. This only taught me that maybe asking for attention wasn't proper, and I saw myself disappear more.
Soon, I could slip away and nobody would come looking for a long while, or maybe I'd stand in the corner during a party or gathering and nobody would look at me. It was when I entered high school that my affliction truly became noticeable.
I would walk between the crowds of students in the hallways; I would watch as friends gathered before classes or during lunch, laughing and joking together. I would yearn for that kind of connection. I would even attempt to make a few friends, but they either couldn't see me or chose not to. I think they chose not to because they could tell I was going to disappear anyhow.
One day, I finally succeeded in making a new friend. Someone who was almost entirely invisible, like me--we could see each other perfectly. Then, I made another friend, a visible one. They could barely see me, but we made up for lack of vision in our conversations. I finally felt like I could be seen, and slowly I watched myself become more visible. It didn't last long, unfortunately.
One day, I knew something was different about myself. My favorite color had always been pink, ever since I was little. But on this day, I woke up and discovered that pink looked different, now. I could no longer see myself wearing it, and I couldn't relate to it in any way. I found out that my favorite color was now blue, and I was overjoyed to be able to know myself. I excitedly told my friends how I'd found out about my new favorite color.
Suddenly, I was more invisible than before. I continued to slowly grow more and more invisible each day, and for a while it made me sad. I wished people could see me as much as they see others, but now I've grown to accept it. I'm simply a fly on the wall, and one that nobody cares to acknowledge, but maybe they just can't. And now I sit here, wondering if these words will be visible to anyone at all. Maybe my fingers will just pass straight through the keyboard as I type, and I won't know until it's not seen. Maybe it'll be seen, but not understood.
I wonder if I'll die invisible.
