Invisibility Complex

You'd think I'd cry. But I'm fairly certain I've forgotten how to. It could easily be assumed that I'd have coped by now, have better skills for it, be more in tune, something. But I haven't. 1

I'd thought things would be a lot different. Better. Stronger. Neutral. Anything better than how they are. Things were suppose to improve. Him going to jail was suppose to be this quick-fix for all the problems in my life. It was suppose to get rid of the gnawing pain in me. It was suppose to make me feel better about myself. About life. About justice. About God. 2

I need some ace bandages and Neosporin for my life. To stitch it up, medicate, and bandage parts. To try to heal me. My world. I need better advice to give to my friends. I need to cut my faith out, divvy it up, pass it around to everyone in my life. 3

It's amazing how I can put everything in my life aside to comfort yet another friend because they're dating a dick who they shouldn't be dating-all the while they never ask me a single thing. Never say thank you. Never repay a portion of the favor even. I think it was a gift God gave me to be able to put up with their bull-but it's getting so tiring, so hard to put up with after years and years of it. When I imagine spending my life like this, I don't like the images. 4

I'm sick of being everyone's carpet. They wipe their muddied feet on me, and they gaze adoringly at their newly clean precious Nikes, without glancing once at me, the dirtied, used, tattered carpet.5

I can't help but care. I don't know how to not care. I want to be everyone's keeper. I want to help the world. And everyone can spot that from a thousand miles away. And most figure out how to take advantage of it, sometimes unknowingly even, from 800 miles away.6

It's how I end up with three hours of extra home work on top of the three hours of home work I already had to do. It's how I end up doing graphs on my computer, searching for how to do it for twenty minutes-when the computer experts in the group could've had them done in those twenty minutes, but they're too damn lazy too. 7

It's how teachers end up ignoring me. I'm a good student, quiet, well-behaved. Why pay attention to me? There's no reason to. It's how people forget I'm here. Ignore me so easily. Brush me off. Push me aside. And I let them. And it didn't use to be a problem. Now I'm sick of the bullshit. And they don't understand why. They've been doing it for so long they don't see anything wrong with it at all. They don't understand. Don't care. 8

Ask me why I'm mad, but don't wait to hear the answer. Ask me what's wrong, all the while looking at someone else. Ask me a question, only to supply your own answer. That's the way it works, I've come to expect it. I'm completely use to it now.9

I'll help you more and ask no help in return. I'll talk when I really need to-but otherwise I'll remain silent. I'll hold you when you cry, but I never cry myself. 10

We can continue this way for a while. You'll benefit from it greatly. Just don't wonder why I act the way I do though. You know why. You may suppress it. But you know why, at least to an extent. You have an idea. 11

Eventually I'm going to stop this bullshit though. And then you'll be left no where. No where at all. Just be warned that day will come. And we'll see what happens.12