Can you see me? Does my voice carry? Am I really here?
The world is my playground. I get dizzy from swinging so high some times and my emotions play out like a teeter totter. The monkey bars are calling, waiting for me to get tangled up in my next life problem. Sometimes I go downhill down the slide but I get right back up and climb those stairs to rise above it all. And sometimes I just need to sit things out and watch the world fly by from my parkside bench. It's a never ending cycle.
But I begin to wonder, at times, whether or not I really exist. It seems more often than not that I'm just invisible to the naked eye. I'm the person that sits in the corner, hiding in the shadows, and no one even knows my name. I'm not really here at all. Maybe I'm just a figment of one's imagination. Could it truly be?
I have friends on Facebook, most of them authors, editors, or publishers. I requested to be friends with a few, but most requested it of me. But yet, out of those tons of friends, only one or two ever notice when I post anything. However, when anyone else posts, they receive tons of comments or promises of a sale. None of my buddies even know, or acknowledge, that I published a book myself. I'm here, friends. I'm alive. I'm not invisible. Can't you see me?
My book launch planning isn't going so well. I put out a notice to over 800 people but only a couple ever took note and responded. My customers, my friends, my neighbors -- you're all invited to a night of mystery as I celebrate the launch of my supernatural thriller, When Angels Sing. I'm here, you know. I'm a person with big dreams and bigger hopes for a brighter future. Unfortunately, those hopes are most always dashed. Can you see me dancing up and down, waving my arms? It's me.
Even when I visit the car dealership quite often, no one remembers me. Everyone remembers my niece, though. She has that memorable face. As for me, I have no face. No one recalls even meeting me, at first. I'm the shadow that swoops into your life and then disappears just as quickly. I'm a real girl, believe it or not. I can't be invisible, and maybe I'm not.
People do stand up and take notice of me, but only when I don't do something or do something that trips the "ticked off and mad alarm". I'm the person people see only when I do something wrong. I'm the scapegoat. Do you want someone to blame for your mistakes? Give me a call. Are you afraid to face someone because of something you did? Just tell them I did it. It was me. You see, I'm not so invisible now, am I?