Your dad’s a drunk. I had to start cleaning up my dad when I was 7. That’s when I turned into the grownup of the family. So you got to wait ’til you were 24. Good for you.
It’s natural for children of trauma, outsiders and people who feel generally “freaky” to harden themselves. It’s easier to build up walls and quarantine your heart than to constantly notice the differences between yourself and the world around you. The comparisons can be crippling. For some reason, in the meantime, everyone else is put on a pedestal. Humans connect the seemingly scattered dots to conclude that everyone else’s lives are perfect. We lock up our heart and throw away the key. We don’t want to feel different, so we figure loneliness is at least decent company.
And then someone comes in who crumbles all walls and defenses and you realize that you’ve been too stubborn and too prideful. We’re all a little bit “freaky”.
My perfect little life? Have you been paying attention at all?
We may feel invisible or altogether too visible. So invisibility becomes our badge and we wear it proudly, albeit silently. We assume the ones with the beautiful faces could never understand and are surprised when they do. We’re almost a bit miffed to realize they understand more than we think, because now our badge of honor is removed and we’re all just the same, only they are prettier.
Guys like you who dont see girls like me. We don’t exist for you. We exist to do your homework and we exist to build your ego up.
And every now and then, the pretty ones see us and they reach across the abyss that we’ve created into our private pain and secluded spaces.
I’d have been honored, to take a girl like you to homecoming.
And in a way, maybe believing that we exist is even scarier than feeling invisible. Because if we exist, we have choices to make. And the risk is more frightening than a choiceless life.