I’m just here. Like when you look out the window and can see the rain shooting the ground, but you can never see it actually fall.


Invisible.


People tell me I’m quiet. They ask me why I don’t talk. They ask me why I don’t talk to them. Why I don’t try to reach out.


Why I don’t try.


I’ve never told anyone what happened. Before this. You’d think that people would know by now. That quiet means something.


That quiet says something.


I used to be different. Not loud, not popular. Maybe not even outgoing. I was me. I knew who I was. I knew where I was going. I told people what I thought. I didn’t care what people told me. I laughed. I smiled. But that was before.


There’s always a before.


But then there’s the happen. The happen is what changes everything. Happens are as common as the wind blowing over the grass. The happen is the difference. The change. The emotion.

The wait.


The what.


The shock.


The tears.


The disbelief.



And then they say that it will get better. Along comes the after. The “I’m okay.” The “don’t worry.” The fake smiles and the laughs. The rewind. The “I never really cared anyway.”


The pretending that your heart isn’t on the floor.


Torn to pieces.


I can still remember. I can remember when I had a someone. A someone slightly special. A best friend. He was always there for me. I was always there for him.


Now it’s just a collage of memories.


He didn’t choose to leave. At least that’s what I told myself. That’s what I still tell myself. He promised. He promised that he’d stay in touch. Promised that he’d message me every day. Promised that we could facetime every night for hours. That we would never grow apart like all of the other long-distance friendships did.


He promised that we would last.


And we did. For a while. We could facetime for hours on end. Talk about anything. About everything. It was perfect.


Then came the stop. Where he would read my texts and never respond. He was my everything.


My life.


In fairy tales, he texts back. In fairy tales, he comes home. In fairy tales, there’s a once upon a time that leads into a happily ever after.


That’s why this isn’t a fairy tale.


If this was a fairy tale, I wouldn’t be crying myself to sleep at night. If this was a fairy tale, I would have a best friend who came back for me. If this was a fairy tale, I wouldn’t stay invisible.


If this was a fairy tale, I would have a hero.


I’m invisible. I walk down the halls like a ghastly figure that floats like a cloud. A cloud that is full to the brim with rain but can’t seem to make it pour out.


It isn’t that people don’t talk to me. It isn’t even that people make it obvious that they don’t like me. It’s just that I’m a sympathy card. Someone that people see sitting alone and say hi but never sit down.


They never sit down.


I used to want people to see through me. I used to want people to know. Want people to care. Want people to see what I’m going through.


That was before.


Before the happen.


Before I was a shadow faded into darkness.


Now it’s a blur. Everything is. The kind of vision you get when you let your eyes unfocus for a second. Just to see how it feels. To see how it looks. See how it changes everything. How it makes something different.


It makes you believe something new.


People say that when you look into a girl’s heart, you see the struggle she goes through in life. You see the lies, the cheating, the fake smiles, and the times when she didn’t want to keep on going.


But most of all, they say that you see what she went through to let go of that one guy who pretended that he cared.


The irony of it all is that throughout the before, the happen, and even the after, no one really cares. They might fake it out or just choose to remain ignorant. They say, “just let him go.” They tell me, “he doesn’t matter, you have us.” Then they walk away before I can tell them that I can’t.


Before I tell them that it will soon be too late.


I feel like someone should have known. Should have noticed. Maybe seen it in my eyes or in the way I talked.


In the way I didn’t talk.


I feel like someone should have been there. That someone should have told me that I didn’t have to or that everything was going to be okay.


Soon everyone will know. Everyone will tell anyone who will listen how perfect I was and how I was their best friend.


Even though it will be too late then.


Because I’ll be long gone.


I’ll be smiling a real smile.


I’ll be going.


I’ll be gone.


And suddenly -- finally, I wasn’t going.


I was gone.