I have a superpower - invisibility. I didn’t choose it. Given the choice I would’ve chosen flying. But the universe has bestowed it upon me, to do with what I will. So far it’s been a nuisance. I can never get served, in shops and cafes I am unseen, ignored.
My friends and family often forget me.
Flying would’ve been so much more fun.
I am not vibrant or loud, so my presence is unnoticed or the invitation forgotten. Like the elderly or the disabled, I am not valued or considered.
In order to be heard or seen I have to be loud. Or harangue. Or fluff myself up like a defensive cat, make myself bigger, more visible. Invisibility is like a black-hole for self esteem, stripping me down and leaving me vulnerable. I want to scream and rage against it, but I cannot muster the energy. Piece by piece, moment by moment, as I have declined invitations, they have declined bothering to ask. I have explained that the mere extension of the invitation makes me feel included and as though I have some control. But it falls on deaf ears; my invisibility gets in the way.
I believe others want to spare me the hurt of awareness of another event I cannot attend, however small. At least it was that way at the start. Now they merely forget to remember me.
So the loneliness compounds. It is as though they are yelling at me that I am no longer who I was; no longer valuable, no longer worth considering. I am invisible. And with each accidental or well intended dismissal and exclusion, my invisibility becomes more permanent, my alienation more profound, and my presence more ghostly.
I am invisible. I wish I could fly.