Invisible

Ok. I'm only going to say this once. Are you ready? Are you even listening? Focus your eyes on me, not on her. Pay attention. Am I mute? Can't you hear what I'm screaming, screaming at the top of my lungs? Look at me. See me. Please?

I don't want to be boxed out anymore. I want to stride in, burst open that cardboard box of exclusiveness and subconscious snobbery. I want to smile and mean it. I want to be able to see you smiling at me without wondering what you're really thinking.

Are you even listening?

I need to run even with you. Not in front of you, not stepping on your heels as you kick dirt in my face. I want to laugh with you, cry with you. I don't want you to laugh at me, and I don't want to cry about you.

Can you even hear me?

What hurts me most is konwing what you are making me become. Because you reject me, I find myself rejecting others. I hate this. Why does this have to happen?

I can see you now, your back to me, your ears deaf, even as I scream this desperate cry of rage and grief. I'm here! I'm here!

Hear me. See me.

Please?


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Elizabeth P. Helpling