Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Invisible, Visible Only By Me

There’s some good to being invisible. You can slip your way out of a messy situation; vanish as if you were never there in the first place. Invisibility comes in handy when you want to be illusive, fearless, powerful, and conniving. But invisibility also bears a heavy price. An impenetrable layer of isolation that ONLY if someone is looking for you, will they be able to find you. For you will always see them coming, but only they can decide to detect your presence, or brush you off as a mere imaginative notion.

I am an invisible woman, visible only by me… No amount of make-up, bright colors, plastered smiles, weave, the curve of my waistline, the fullness of my breasts, the best of whatever, no matter what, I still am invisible, visible only by me. I glide in my five inch pumps effortlessly across brick, cobblestone, and tried DC streets, but no one notices. My curled coif bounces in the sunlight changing hues from golden brown to bronze tinged. My bright perfectly manicured orange nails, my nude lips, my smoldering eyes, my jewel tone dress announce my presence, but no one notices. No one notices the smile plastered on my lips, the playfulness dancing in my eyes, tucked safely being black rimmed 50s style sunglasses, no one notices, because no one can see me. My yellow iphone stuck to my hand like glue, glued to my ear laughing and chatting with you know who, about you know what, but since I am not your concern, you do not notice me. No one notices that today I straightened by hair. I am invisible, because you don’t see me. Yet I have run out of things to do to get people to notice me, short of announcing my invisibility. You see I can shove them, scream, and event throw a fit… but most people will just dismiss me as a societal misfit. And then what would I have accomplished? I will still be invisible, visible only by me.

I notice it most when I am out and about by myself. No one even seems to look my way, to offer me a seat, to help me with my bags, or to be a helping hand. But yet I am a friendly shy kind of woman, with a welcoming laugh, I’m silly, I am fun, ain’t I just like everyone? But yet it seems to be, it seems to me, that I am still invisible, visible only by me. Others brush me off like a preconceived notion, a pun, a joke, or a case of mistaken identity. But I am not mistaken, I am me, visible only by me.

It happens to me, all the time you see, when people ask their questions about me, they just want to know the superficial me. No one cares that I once fell out of a tree, what about if I cry or what color I bleed. What inspires me to write, what makes me smile, and what kinds of foods I’d like to try. Instead most of time I get unfortunate claims and made up rhymes, requests of photos of what’s between my thighs, and their favorite pastimes. And with each person I meet, a little more of me, obscures my visibility. A little more of me fades into oblivity. Invisible to them, but visible only by me.

I want a chance, a mere opportunity, for someone to glance and recognize me. To stop mid sentence and stare at me. To understand that perhaps there is more to me. Despite the outward appearance and design, that inside this body is a woman so divine, that only by the Grace of God, could you see my true shine, but in that moment, you carved out space and time, to truly get to see me, for me, and not just from behind. But to give me your trust and in turn you’ll have mine. TO see me for the woman I be, visible behind my guise of invisibility.

See I am chasing this idea, this absurd propriety that dating is easy just wait to be seen. When it seems, the only ones that can see me, are the ones not worthy of me. You see this makes things complicated when you are trying not to be seen, by other invisible people, visible only to me. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, I can spot easily, and they too can look through me, and see my vulnerability. So I stay in the shadows, I stay hidden but not on purpose, I just don’t know how to make you see me, visible to just you and not me.

Perhaps one day, as I pass by you, you will smell the vanilla cupcake fragrance lingering in the air and you will turn to come running into my bakery, wanting to know so desperately my secret recipe. For me to give you cart blanch access to satisfy your sweet tooth, leaving you to crave the sweet things buried deep within my womb, oozing chocolate covered kisses, and bursting my fountain of chocolate liquid desire. Exposing my vulnerability and yet divulging yourself head first into an orgasm of caramel coated ecstasy. Can you see me? Or will I forever be invisible, visible only by me?

So every night at dream time, I close my eyes and dream of all that you can see in me, visible by only to you and not me. You know my flaws, my weaknesses and you will never take advantage of me, kuz it was in my invisibility that you came and found me. It’s because of you, I am invisible, you’re my hidden opportunity, but in reality you don’t exist much like how I feel when I do not exist.

*sigh* But yet none of the passerbyers seems to notice or care, I’ve gone missing. And so I remain invisible. Visible only to me. In hopes that one day, someone will notice the quirky girl that so much of her remains a mystery. In the pouring rain or the beaming sunshine, no matter how bright my light, how bright I shine, no matter the color I wear, I am no match for the curse that I bear. I want to be seen, by someone other than me. And yet here I remain, invisible, visible only to me.

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