Invisible man

 There was a time when I disappeared a time or two. I vanished from the people I care about and who care about me. I did it because I did not want them to be hurt, and yet doing so hurt them immeasurably.

 I have felt like a ghost in the real world, gliding along touching peoples’ lives but not really being a part of them. This was true for quite some time; I was invisible for so long, half remembered and quickly forgotten, that it started to feel right, like this is how it should be for me. And then, for whatever reason, I was seen. I was noticed and approached, I made acquaintances, and in some cases, friends. And then I found I had made true friends, real friends. Friends that were there for me whenever I needed them and who I wanted to be there for. I was happy to have them, overjoyed in fact, because they accepted my ridiculous thoughts and my odd demeanor. They took me as I was. I was happy.

 Then I left, and the old feelings came back. They were my friends, and I cared for them dearly, but my mind saw them as a danger. Someone I could hurt, and thus hurt myself. They were roots holding me in place which, when you’ve floated so long, was a scary feeling. So I cut loose, disappearing again, as I had so many times before. I was sure, I told myself, that they would forget me, and move on as all the others did.

 But they didn’t, and when I came back they were here. They continued to live their lives, but those bonds they had made for me, not chains to hold down but ropes to hold together, were still there, waiting for me to grab them. So I did, and I learned that this feels more right than anything I've known. We may not speak daily, weekly, or monthly, but I can always feel them through our bond.

 I never thought twice about the pain I might have caused, I thought I had done no wrong. It took my dearest friend slapping me in the face to open my eyes and, through the sting, see my folly. I had hurt someone. I had hurt people I had cared for deeply. My disappearance served no one. It hurt them not to hear from me, and it hurt me to be away from them. I caused such foolish pain in that. But now I see, and I know the pain that disappearing can bring. I cannot promise that I will not do it again. It is something I have done so long that I sense it even now at times, a slight urge to pull away and fade to black. But when I begin to, I hope my friends will see it and, with as little pleasure as possible, slap me back to my senses. Because I don’t want to let go of these bonds, I want to be seen by them. I no longer need to be the invisible man.



Thank you to my dear friends, for seeing me, and accepting me. For enduring the pain I put you through with my foolish disappearances and being there when I came back.