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Invisible
When I walk down the halls, I know that no one is staring at me. If they are I know that it’s because they are wondering who exactly is that girl? Even though I have all my classes with them, sit next to them in English, or have been around for the whole year, they still don’t know who I am. Because I am invisible. My friends tell me that being invisible is bad, that if I’m invisible I’ll never be happy. My friends don’t know anything about me. I like for the invisibility, without it I am nothing. I never asked to seen, I asked to be heard. To be just another face in the crowd who can pass without any stares. To be anonymous.
I know that I have to play my part in the world. I know that if I don’t, I won’t be able to complain when something goes wrong. But does anyone need to know that it was me who planted all those trees in the park? Do they need to know that it was me who worked at the soup kitchen, or me who read to the sick children in the hospital? All that they really need is to appreciate it. All they really need is to realize that some one needs to do it.
It is my choice to be invisible. That’s just who I am.
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