You do not see me.

We share pieces of each other.

But you do not see me.

I peek my head through your door multiple times a day.

But you do not see me.

I ask you questions like How are classes going? Can you please set the table? Do you need anything from the store? Would you like to go on a walk with me? Is everything okay?

But you do not see me.

We walk the same floors, wash our hands in the same sink, and both smell the same funk that signals the trash can needs to be emptied.

But you do not see me. Nor do you empty the trash can.

Except when you do.

When you need a new pair of shoes. Or when we are out of apples and coffee creamer. Or when you need a ride somewhere. Or when you want to borrow my makeup. Or when the wifi isn’t working.

Even then, I’m simply visible. Not seen.

I am the doorway you pass through leading to places you’d rather be.

I am the couch you sit on as you check your phone, providing the cradle you hope to find within the snaps and emojis and messages appearing and disappearing on the screen.

I am the other customers you shop among at the store, with whom you share space but don’t really care to know anything more about their lives.

I am the mirror you use to evaluate your strengths and weaknesses, but only the ones you choose to recognize, not the ones I’m actually reflecting.

I am the street sign you pass every day but don’t look at…because you already know your way home.

You think you already know what you need to know. So you don’t need to see me anymore.

But I am still here. I will always be here. Just in case you do forget. Just in case you do look for me one day. Just in case you do need help seeing who you really are. Just in case my experiences can teach you something. Just in case you want to retreat to arms that will forever be open to you. Just in case the place you’d rather be is here.

Because even though you don’t see me, I see you. And I see that I must be invisible in order for you to figure out who you are right now. Being invisible, it’s an unwanted superpower. It’s not the one I would have selected. But whoever said we get to choose the weapon we wield? So I guess it’s okay. For now.

However…invisible people shouldn’t really take out the trash. It might alarm the neighbors to see a trash bag floating down the driveway. Just a head’s up for the next time you smell that funk.

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