Invisible

Invisible

 I wonder how many of us are living invisibly in plain sight. It’s so easy to do in this day and age as no one notices, no one cares much about anything around them. Everyone existing in their own reality oblivious to others.

For the past 45 years I’ve lived in a city of 6 million plus. I’ve been in my home for 39 years. My lawn and garden used to be such pride and joy but that has all disappeared. First my schedule and now my health has changed all that. Now all that people see is things looking old and disheveled, seemingly uncared for. No one has any thoughts of asking why or if they can help, but instead just laugh and call names, a crazy old cat lady. Looking away, looking aside, unnoticing of what may be truly happening, or that help might needed. Name less and face less, just living in a house on a street in a big city. The definition of neighbor is unknown. 

I’m giving in, trying to find a way. A new way. A different way. Any way. Any place. A reprieve from my current state of reality. Connection feels like angry, bubbling lava with no escape from the burn. I have no translation for communication; all words coming and going seem foreign, unable to understand or be understood. What I thought was a true path disintegrated into dust and was swept away like it never existed, like I was non existent. I’m so tired of the struggles, being let down and hurt with no real place to rest, nothing, no one seems to help. Beating myself up because I can’t seem to help myself, to love my Self. Unable and unwilling to trust. Unsure whether I’m lost, blind, broken or just done.

Pain surrounds me. I feel unsafe in my own skin almost every minute of every day. Everything, every place, everyone is just a reminder of my inability and failure to exist in this world I find so cruel. I’ve never found a place to fit, to allow me as I am. They talk of finding your tribe but I must be on the wrong planet or in an alternate reality. There are no others on my path. It is mine alone. I’ve tried so hard. I’m tired. Wishing it was all an illusion or even a delusion. 

I’m done trying for now. I am done searching. Reaching out has not been successful. I have very little left in my tank. My heart is not whole but instead full of holes, unhealed and bleeding. Defeated and discouraged, I am retreating, becoming one of the invisibles, fading into the surroundings, hidden away in plain slight. Broken and forgotten after giving every ounce I’ve ever had to everyone else. Kicked again and again while down. My wounds are large and raw; unseen and misunderstood. 

Hope is elusive. I used to have some holders of hope but are any still out there? That thought brings the most sadness. Healing is fleeting. An unsolved mystery. It takes so much to stay, to be here solo, but it’s all I’ve got. The uncertainty of it all for me right now is less scary than the exhaustion of the struggle. Will the knock out be next? Low on options. Running out of resources. 

Maybe I can locate some rest. Not sure where. No plan. Alone with my thoughts. Friends or foes? No one gets it. No one hears. Darkest side of the moon. My dear Lola, my depression. Who else is appearing? I will just shut them all out but they always come back. Fuck. 

Look around and if you want 

you will see 

all the invisible people

just as me. 

Alone seems my only choice. Living life in silence. Preparation. I often wonder: Is it quiet when you die? 

2.17.25