Disappear in Journal

The feeling I have, when I look in the mailbox and the envelopes I set in there the day before to be mailed are still here… is the feeling of invisibility. I check to see if I remembered to raise the red flag on the outside of the box. I did. The feeling deepens.

It’s in these moments, the moments when after braving the world to express myself, or even to do an ordinary task like mail a letter, and there is no response to my request for acknowledgement, that I begin to feel invisible. I begin to have that familiar sensation of ostracism, and I inevitably think of home. I think of going back home, to a few acres with horses, goats and chickens, and just never leaving. I could stay there forever; utterly nonexistent. No one would ever know.

The interesting part of all of it is, I really wouldn’t mind being invisible. If the world or anyone in particular should choose-and it is a choice- to ignore my existence, I would be more than happy to step out of the way. Being invisible, only the effects of my existence may be observed, and not my existence itself. Will anyone wonder at the happy coincidence of abundant and overflowing honey, fruits, milk and contentedness? Perhaps they will all be too preoccupied to notice. After all, which is more noticeable? A person or a person’s deeds?