Don't Disappear

“I don’t know what to do, mom,” I admitted into the phone’s receiver. It had been two years since I left home - I had grown up in a small town, surrounded by more cows than actual people. I had felt invisible my entire life, stuck in static, unable to move or grow, or truly do anything. I had grown tired of that life, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was meant for more - that I was destined to become something amazing. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that there. So I left. Packed my bags and said a tearful goodbye to my parents. We had always been a close family, and it was hard to leave. When there’s nothing and no one else around, it’s easy to grow together, tangled up into one garden. But to survive, I had to detach my roots and look for someplace else where I could grow like I was meant to - my own little paradise. 

I had moved to the city. If I hated the country, it made sense, right? Go to the opposite side of the country, the opposite of everything I had ever known. But how was I supposed to know the deep loneliness that blanketed the bright lights of the city, dulling down the sparkle and excitement to something barely noticeable. How was I supposed to explain that I too had fallen victim to the smothering cover of solitude and monotony? How do you tell the only people in the world that have truly loved you that you left for no reason. That everything was going wrong. I didn’t lie - I didn’t know what to do. 

“You know you could always come home,” she replied. It was meant to be a comfort, but all I could think about was that I hadn’t done what I had come here to do. I hadn’t found anything special about me - I didn’t know what my purpose was. If I left, would I be quitting? Condemning myself to the same lives of everyone else back home?

“I can’t leave yet, mom. But I’ll figure it out. I’ll be okay.” 

“Are you sure, honey? I’m worried about you.” 

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll get through it, I always do. Besides, there’s still so much I want to do here.” I didn’t know who I was trying to convince - me or her. Regardless, it was true. I was alone here, feeling more invisible than ever. But that wasn’t anything new. I was determined to figure out how to do more than just survive. 

We talked a bit longer about mundane things, like my brother’s high school graduation coming up in May and my dad’s new promotion, and I smiled, enjoying the simple pleasure of life that I so little got these days. I missed them terribly. I thought that maybe I should go back, that it would be easier to be invisible but still loved than the nothing I was now. But I couldn’t. I had to find what it was that I so desperately wanted. 

After I hung up, I got ready for work, dressing in my business casual and preparing to go through the motions. I would walk down the crowded street, but never be seen. Walk into work, but not be acknowledged. Try to speak up in meetings but get ignored. Work in silence while life bustled around me. Grow quieter as the intimidating people grew louder and louder, so shamelessly living. Why couldn’t I do that? Why was I trapped in survival mode when the energy around me was so vivid and alive? I had always been told that I was too loud, too opinionated, too much. But here I wasn’t enough. 

One day I woke up and went about my day as normal, trying not to think about what my life had become. I was used to being ignored by now. I decided to differentiate from my routine and pick up dinner on the way home from work. I didn’t really have the money for it, but why not treat myself after the thousandth shitty day in a row? I had to have some sort of record - and that was worth a little treat. I decided on my favorite Indian restaurant, craving the spicy curry and bold flavors. I waited in line for only a few minutes before stepping up to order. 

“Hi! Welcome to the Durbar, how can I help you today?” the perky cashier started. It put a small smile on my face. 

“Hi!” I replied. “Can I please get the jalfrezi curry, extra hot, with the basmati rice? Oh, and with a side of naan bread, please.” There was a moment when he looked at me blankly, before speaking again. 

“Ma’am, are you going to order?” I was confused, but I repeated my order, thinking that maybe he just hadn’t heard me. He just looked at me, confusion and frustration written all over his features. “Ma’am, if you aren’t going to order, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re holding up the line.” Now it was my turn to be confused. I was speaking, I know I was. I could hear myself. I could feel it in my throat. I could feel my jaw moving up and down with my words. 

“Can you not hear me?” I asked.

“Ma’am can you please step out of line? I can take the next person in line!” he called out. Another woman stepped around me, glancing at me like I was some sort of crazy. I gaped at the both of them, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. I tried to speak again, but it didn’t do anything. No one noticed me, heard me, even looked at me. It was like my fears had all come to life and I was truly invisible. 

I turned and ran out of the building, running up to the closest stranger and trying desperately to be heard. I went from person to person, wanting nothing more than a response. But nobody could hear me. All I got for my efforts was strange looks and harsh gestures. The city wasn’t my friend. I couldn’t believe what it had done to me. How can it just render someone mute? 

I texted my boss, saying there was an emergency and I wouldn’t be into work, then ran to the nearest doctor. Communication was almost impossible, having to write everything down or flail my arms and hope I was understood. The doctor was just as baffled as I was. They couldn’t find anything wrong with me. The rest of the day passed in a blur. I couldn’t live like this. What was I supposed to do? How the hell could I even fix this?

The rest of the week was similar, spending my days in silence, unable to communicate with anyone around me. Yet somehow, my life wasn’t any different. I had left to escape the feeling of being stuck, the same people living the same lives, completely blinded to the possibilities - to the potential to be something great. But was it better to be completely invisible? I should have just gone back home. I didn’t want to fade into the background. I didn’t want my life to be a blur. 

I finally hit my breaking point a few nights later. I was angry. I turned into a tornado, ripping through my apartment, screaming and crying, throwing anything I could. I almost hoped that someone would hear and be worried, but there were no calls. No knocks on the door. I looked at my trashed apartment, breathing hard, but it wasn’t enough. I tore out of the door. I didn’t know where I was going, just that I couldn’t stay here. 

I didn’t often walk at night. It was dangerous for a young girl to be alone in the dark, but I didn’t care. I needed to get out, to try something. Try anything. I stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at the pieces of broken glass strewn around my feet that someone had probably forgotten about earlier today. I picked up a shard before holding it close to my face. I could still see my reflection. But could I even rely on my own eyes anymore? Tears finally slipped down my cheeks before I threw the glass back on the ground, watching as it shattered like I had. 

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, staring at the soft glow for a moment before dialing and pressing the receiver to my ear. I heard the soft click right before my mom picked up the phone. 

“Hey, honey!” 

“Hi, mom,” I choked out. No response. 

“Hello?” 

I felt my heart drop instantly as I pulled the phone away from my face and hung up. Not even she could hear me. Maybe I was meant to disappear. I turned on my heel, heading in the opposite direction until I found myself on the roof of a skyscraper. I didn’t know how I got there. I didn’t even know where I was. I tried to fight the thoughts that said no one cared anyway, but it was hard. If you’re invisible, then will anyone even miss you when you’re gone? 

I looked over the edge, contemplating just jumping. At least that way I would feel a sense of peace, a weightlessness that soothed at the very end. But I couldn’t jump. I backed away, the tears still streaming freely. Was I a coward, too scared to do something different? Maybe. Or maybe I was too stubborn to acknowledge the truth of my invisibility. 

I was nothing. But I couldn't be nothing. I just couldn’t. I still knew I was made for more. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something inside of me that wanted to be great. I wanted to be heard. I didn’t want to fade in obscurity. I wanted to do something. 

“Why can’t you hear me?! Why can’t you see me?!!” I screamed. I could feel my vocal chords shredding themselves, but I didn’t care. It was just a reminder that it was real. I screamed until my voice was raw. I could see now how tragic my life had been - the life of a girl who wanted so badly to live and instead survived. I didn’t stop until all the tears had been cried. I didn’t have anything left to give. But if I did, I would. I would give anything to truly live. To say what I could and make a difference. I had wasted the time I had, and now I had nothing left. A perfect representation of the nothing I had become. I sank to the ground and stayed there until the sun came up. I could still feel the tracks on my cheeks of where my passions had flowed to their deaths. 

When the sun finally rose, it was almost cruel. It sparkled over the city, showing a beauty I had never seen before. Or maybe had never noticed. The reflection of the gentle glow washed me in sunlight, and I took a deep breath. If the city could change, then I could too. I didn’t know how, but I would find a way. I could still feel something under my skin, a desire to break free and show who I was and what I could offer. 

I stood up, brushed the dirt off my pants, and started back down the endless stairs I didn’t remember climbing. When I was back on the street, I watched the colorful people walk around, smiles on their faces, so content with their lives. 

I could be that, I thought to myself. I walked down the sidewalk, never deterring from my path, making people look at me before they walked around me. I watched someone walking on their phone, heading towards me, all the way until we collided with each other. They looked up, anger flaring behind their eyes. 

“Watch where you’re going,” the stranger sneered before starting to walk again. 

“No.” The stranger looked back at me, clearly startled. 

“What did you just say?”

I blanked for a moment. Had someone finally heard me?

“I said no. You’re the one who ran into me,” I replied. They looked annoyed, but simply shook their head before continuing on their path. I watched them leave. Was my curse finally broken?

I ran from stranger to stranger, asking questions, talking about random things. Every single one could hear me. They looked at me like I was on some sort of drug, and I was. I was positively high on life. I raced back to my rooftop and screamed out for the whole city to hear. I was thrilled. I would use my voice whenever I could. I didn’t care how much people stared, or thought it was crazy. People could see me now, and I would do anything I could, whenever I could, to keep it that way.

I smiled and laughed, tears of joy creating new lines and washing my face of the pain from last night. Nothing had changed, yet everything had. I was a new person. And I would never stop making people see me. I would choose to live every day, and make my dreams of tomorrow a reality of today.