Forgettable Me

It has to be me, right? Everyone else cannot be wrong. I remember writing a poem about being seen. It was a poem about voice and invisibility. That is how I feel every time my name is not remembered. That is the way I feel when the phone never rings. That is the way I feel when my email remains empty. Invisibility is not a gift, invisibility is an obvious indication that you are not memorable. Your jokes fall flat and your smile seems weird. Your laugh seems contrived and your hair is never quite right. No one ever invites you for a drink or a bite to eat. No one ever listens for the beating of her heart. No one hears the screams that are waiting and lingering in her throat. She is invisible , but not unlike you. She lurks the hallways and walks on kitten heels as she performs her spectacle of grace. But at home she knows, she listens to the voices in her head that everything is not right. Tomorrow she will do the same thing. No one will remember, not even her name. Her words will fall in the river of forgetfulness. Her pain will hang for all to see. She will cry tears that puddle on her chest. The salt will sting and burn her eyes. She will think one final time, that no they are all wrong. I'm the life of the party. Everyone's constant friend. I will line the sky with poetry that will be heralded as great. My name will grace every mind and move from space to space. That is what she tells herself and she thinks that tomorrow will be different that she will finally be seen. She is the invisible girl, the forgettable girl. She is me.