I am the invisible girl.

My voice is unheard.

I live in a world where the goal is to be seen and paid attention.

I live in a visible world of visible things, of visible people,

Who see each other.

I want to be seen,

I think.

I have friends.

They cannot see me.

They never speak to me.

If I stand in one place, if I stay quiet

Just observing,

They forget I am there.

I couldn't speak up if I wanted to.

We share interests. I relate to them.

They cannot see me.

They never speak to me.

I have friends,

I think.

There is a boy I think I like.

He is visible,

Tall, with chestnut colored hair, and eyes that remind me of winter.

I wish I had chestnut hair and wintery eyes.

Perhaps I do.

I may never know.

I've never bothered to learn his name

Because why bother learning a name other than to call it out in the hallways,

Or catch one's attention from across the street.

I could not call out his name if I knew it.

He has never seen me

He has never said my name.

He will never see me.

He will never say my name.

For I am invisible.

If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is there to hear, does it really make a sound?

If I am here, and I stand and I stand and I am and I am, and nobody can see me,

Am I really here?

Am I nothing but a fleeting second, a moment of consciousness, an idea, a thought?

Am I flesh and bone, or am I an outsider, looking into a world where everything can be seen?

What is a life, being invisible? If I am not seen, how will I have a life like a normal person should?

I am not normal, and I never will be.

I will never know what I really am until I am not,

And even then, it may all be a blank oblivion that allows no thought and no being.

I am invisible.

But at least I am,

I think.