Invisible Me

You kissed me one night, but I know you don’t remember.

Not that you don’t remember the moment—though you might not—but you don’t remember me. I’m telling you because for the past three years I’ve been invisible to you. I’m told if I’m unable to talk about, it’s better to write you a letter you’ll never read.

Like therapy or something.

So, even though I feel like an idiot for doing this, I’ll try just about anything at this point. Because if I don’t, the truth will eat me from the inside out like it’s already started to. I need to tell someone, even if it is just a piece of paper. I hope this works, and I don’t know what I’ll do if it doesn’t.

So, I’m going to start from the beginning.

When you moved here during our freshmen year, I saw you that very first day. Our school is big, as you know, but it’s always easy picking out a new face. You were in the cafeteria, wearing a marigold flower necklace, and I forgot to eat lunch that day. I’m not ashamed to say that you were, or are, my first major crush. And that’s not something to be forgotten easily, hence the letter.

Everyone remembers their first crush.

During that first year of high school I knew your schedule by heart. My eyes trailed you in the halls when you weren’t looking, and whenever I heard your voice I would listen as hard as I could to hear what you were talking about. Sorry, that seems a little creepy now that I see it on paper. But I never stalked you, I swear. I was just curious to know about the things you liked.

You’re probably wondering why I never just talked to you, but that’s because you don’t know me, and how shy I am. It really is one of my greatest flaws. I don’t speak up a lot about anything, and I only do it if I have to. Now that I’m thinking about it, I probably should have said something to you earlier on. It would’ve made my life so much easier.

But freshman year was nothing special. You were still the new girl, and I wasn’t surprised that you never noticed me. That year I had glasses and I never stuck out of the crowd, but I knew something had to change before the start of our sophomore year. I still wore glasses, and a few girls actually thought it was cute (their words, not mine), but I cut my hair shorter than it was, hoping you would at least look at me.

Over the following summer you had gotten a tan and your blonde hair was longer than ever. I felt like nothing compared to you, and I didn’t know what to do to make you see me.

I found out we had one class together that year, and I made sure to get a desk near yours which happened to be right behind you. Within the first week, I started to hope you would drop your pencil or paper so I would have an excuse to talk to you, so you would notice me. But nothing ever happened. I got a horrible grade in Math that year, probably because I was busy staring at your hair in every class, wondering when you would turn around to see who sat behind you everyday.

You never did.

After New Year, about a week into school, you accidentally bumped into me in the hallway. You dropped your book and I picked it up for you, my heart pounding like it never had before. When I went to hand it back to you, hoping you would already be looking at me, you were busy talking with one of your friends. You reached for your book without even looking at me.

“Thanks,” you said in-between sentences. You never even saw me. I stood in that hallway and watched you walk away, wondering what was wrong with me. That night my mom asked me what was the matter, but I just shrugged it off, saying it was nothing.

The school year ended the same as the last. I saw you once during the summer, but you never looked my way.

The first day of junior year I actually turned some heads. I had finally gotten contacts over the summer and my green eyes were visible for the first time. Sure, I wasn’t as big as some of the guys you hung out with, but I could pull off a T-shirt better than anyone, and even I’ll admit to that. But, even after getting contacts, becoming taller, and more sure of myself, you still didn’t see me.

I started that year feeling more of myself than ever, and I didn’t want to change who I was just so you would see me. I stayed who I was, but I secretly hated it, knowing you would never see me like the other people around you.

I could either change who I was for a chance you would notice me, or I could stay myself and be invisible to you. I chose the latter, hoping you would still give me a chance and see me for who I really was.

We had three classes together our Junior year. That’s right . . . three. I still looked at you, still noticed your presence whenever you were near. It was frustrating, really. I was still a nobody to you. You saw me a few times within the first couple of months, but you never actually saw me. I passed you in the halls. I sat next to you in class. You bumped into me in line in the cafeteria more than once.

Thanks.

Excuse me.

Sorry.

Those were the only words you ever spoke to me. And every time I would open my mouth to say something back, you were already gone. I had missed my chance. You have no idea how many times I tried to gain the courage to talk to you. Once, I had actually stood behind you while you rummaged through your locker, my mouth half open, trying to form words.

When you turned around you were surprised to find someone already there. I hoped that it would give me a chance to say something, anything that didn’t make me sound stupid. I think that was the first time that you made eye contact with me. It was the longest moment of my life.

Your friends came up to you, standing right in front of me, and I was forgotten again. You started to move off with them, but before you were out of earshot, I heard something.

“Who was that?” one of them asked.

I stared at your back as you walked away, wanting to hear the answer.

You shrugged.

You said, “I have no clue. Maybe he’s new or something.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. I’d been around you for the last two and a half years, and you didn’t even recognize me. Standing in the hallway, with people pushing past me while the bell rang, I realized you probably never would. Matt always told me to get over you, but he never knew how much I really liked you, how much I needed you to know who I was.

I know a lot more about you than you know.

You moved from New York, where you loved it, but you also didn’t mind the move. You lived with your mom, dad, and brother who was four years younger. Volleyball is your favorite sport, and you’re really good at it. On the days it rains you wear your hair in a ponytail, letting it hang down the middle of your back. Whenever a teachers calls on you, you finger the necklace around your neck, like a nervous habit. And you always get the answers right. You have no trouble making your grades and turning in papers. You get bored in history though, most of the time you just stare out the window.

Even though I know these things about you, I wish I could know you better. Because I don’t. Not really. And I also wish that you could know me, but I’m afraid that if you do, I won’t be good enough for you. I’m an average student. Nothing special. I’m pretty decent at baseball, but our school is so focused on football that it doesn’t matter. It seems like nothing matters these days . . .

After the New Year of our Junior year, nothing much changed. I still willed you to see me and you still didn’t. Not even after I did a presentation in class did you notice me. I stood up there for a whole five minutes. You looked at me once, and that was it. I felt sick to my stomach when it happened, and Mr. Jones even asked if I was feeling all right. Everyone had stared at me, except you.

But I told him I was fine. I don’t like lying to teachers; they always seem to see right through me.

But at the end of our Junior year is when it happened. Marcus was holding another party, declaring the end of our school year finally over, and everyone that was a sophomore or higher was there. I talked with a few of my friends at the party, but the whole time I watched you out of the corner of my eye. I was so jealous of the guys standing next to you, leaning towards you, the ones you laughed with and touched arms with. I could barely stand looking at you that night.

The thing we all know about Marcus’s parties is what happens at midnight. For some reason everyone cheers on the new day, and some people, like Marcus, ‘declare’ the new day. I worry for some of our classmates, but that’s not the point.

I’d lost track of time while walking back to the kitchen, passing through the hallway. It was then when it struck midnight, and everyone turned to the nearest person and kissed them like it was some fairy tale ending. It was corny really, but everyone did it because it was an excuse to kiss someone that you would otherwise wouldn’t.

Maybe it was luck, or chance, and to tell you the truth, I don’t care. But as it was, you were left standing alone while everyone around us started kissing. I looked at you, leaning up against the wall, and you stared back with an unreadable expression. I was afraid you would ask who I was and crush my hopes of you knowing me even farther, so I did something before you, or I, could even talk. I took those two steps towards you, breaking that space between us. And I kissed you.

And you started kissing me back.

My head was spinning and my heart pounded so hard that I was sure you could feel it. Maybe you could, I don’t know. I wrapped an arm around your back and pressed you closer, never wanting to break the space between us. I remember the feel of your fingers running through my hair, grabbing it and pulling my head closer to yours. My body pulsed and my blood ran fast.

It was unbelievable.

When we broke apart, a whole crowd of people pushed past us into the kitchen and we were broken apart. I stopped at the mouth of the kitchen and looked back at you, hoping to see you staring back, finally believing that this was the moment.

It was a blow to my stomach seeing you talking with another guy already, smiling and flirting like it never happened.

I could still taste you on my lips and you had already pushed me from your mind. How could you forget about me so quickly? Was I really that invisible to you?

I’m going to tell you something that you don’t know.

When I walked out the door that night, with the party still going on into the night, I was stopped. I had only made it halfway to my car before Luke, Grady, and Nick appeared from nowhere. I really had no idea what to expect, but I knew they weren’t planning on letting me pass. I was about to ask them what they wanted with me, but they never gave me the chance. I don’t know who was who in the dark, but two of them held my arms while the third beat me until I was gasping for breath. I took blows to my jaw, my stomach, my ribs. Everywhere until I was numb. After he was done they let me drop to the ground, right onto the hard asphalt with bits of dirt imbedded into my palms. They stood over me, not making any move to help.

Luke bent down near my ear and whispered, “Stay away from her. She’s too good for you.”

He gave me one last kick in the ribs before walking towards the house again, leaving me in the driveway with a bloody face. I was glad that day had been the last day of school so nobody would have to see what happened. I drove home, feeling numb, inside and out. I laid in my bed all night, my head pounding with what had happened and what didn’t happen. I tried to forget the night of the party, and the fact that you still didn’t see me even after I kissed you. It hurt my chest to think about it.

Summer passed.

When school came around again I had no idea what to expect. I sure didn’t forget about what Luke had said, but another part of me hoped that something had changed over the summer and you would want me back enough for me to forget about his threats. Isn’t that what love is supposed to do anyway? I wasn’t in love with you, but I knew I would be if you let me.

So, here I am, writing this stupid letter in the middle of October, hoping to get over you and get on with my life. I hate going to school because it’s no different. Instead of having three classes together like we did last year, we have four. We practically have the same schedule, though I feel like a ghost every moment I’m around you. I’m close to giving up, and I think that’s what I want.

Why don’t you see me? I keep thinking that I should change, but I know I shouldn't have to. But maybe changing will be what it takes for you to see me.

******

I stare down at the paper, fingering my pen but not knowing what else to write. There is nothing else. God, I feel so pathetic. It shouldn’t be like this. I should’ve forced myself to get over her when it was obvious that she would never see it. I haven’t been feeling myself because of it. And I haven’t been focused on school like I used to be.

I fold the pages and stuff them inside a plain white envelope, wondering what I should do with it. It feels heavy in my hands; the weight of truth. The quiet house echoes around me, reminding me that I’m alone. Like I always am.

I study the envelope.

A car horn honks outside, jarring me from my thoughts. Without thinking I shove the envelope in my back pocket and grab my jacket before leaving my room. It’s dark outside, well past ten, but Matt is late as usual. He’s on the phone when I buckle myself into his car, and he’s still talking to someone on the other end when we get to the party. He finally hangs up and looks over at me.

“You’re acting weird.”

“How do you know if I was acting weird if you were on the phone the entire trip over here?”

“Because I know.” I just stare out the windshield, still thinking about the damn letter in my pocket. “I know I’ve said this before, but you have to get over her, man. It’s not healthy being this way. You’re missing out on your own life and you don’t even realize it.” He’s about to say more but his phone rings, disturbing the silent car.

“Hey Zach, what’s up?” He gets out of the car, not even realizing I’m not there behind him. I watch him walk down the road towards the house, gesturing with his free hand as he continues to talk. In the matter of seconds, I’m alone again.

I’m not sure why I came, but I’m here. I know she’s inside, and that fact is killing me because just like the past three years, I want to see her. She’s probably the only reason I came. Why I ever come. I close my eyes and wish my heart would move on without her, free myself from being who I’m not. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t even be here. She’s slowly tearing me apart, making it harder and harder for me to be content with myself.

Would it kill me to just walk home? I could do it. I could let go and leave, push her from my thoughts forever and never think of her again. I can do that, can’t I?

“Shit.” I open the door, slamming it shut behind me. The music becomes louder as I near the house, and I see people hanging out in the front yard drinking from plastic cups. It doesn’t matter because there are no neighbors to hear or see them. Someone calls my name behind me but I pretend I don’t hear and walk inside.

Like clockwork, my eyes scan the room, looking and not finding. Part of me hopes she’s not here. It’s a small part, barely registering to my brain, but it’s there. Bodies are pressed tightly together, and people trying to make their way through but finding it difficult. I recognize almost everyone. A few people nod hellos and I try to smile back.

I’m not happy tonight like I usually am. I’m someone who smiles easily and doesn’t get stirred up at the slightest of things. But that’s changed lately, and I’m feeling more bitter than I ever have.

I start clearing a path through the crowd and find myself in the hallway again, bringing back that memory like a sledgehammer. My legs buckle slightly and I try to keep walking.

“Move it!” I get shoved from behind and more people pass by as I lean up against the wall, watching people pass by. I wait for a chance to move again but I don’t see one. There’s a lot more people here than usual.

“Hey, I know you.”

I look over and find a girl leaning against the wall next to me. She has short dark hair and an eyebrow ring. Her clothes are plain like mine; T-shirt with a pair of jeans. I’m still wearing my jacket but she doesn’t have one, showing her bare arms that look smooth. One of her hands is down near her hips, her thumb hooked into her belt loop. I try to think of what she said to me.

“You do?” I ask, still slightly absent. “From where?”

“School, we have history together.”

Her eyes study me. They’re blue. I do recognize her.

“You moved here last year and you sit behind me, right?” I try to smile because thinking of school only brings one person to mind.

“Yeah,” she nods. “And you sit behind that girl you always stare at.”

My eyes started to trail away, but they snap back just as quick. I try to shake my head. “I don’t stare at anyone.”

“You know,” she shifts her weight to her other foot, “other people might not notice, but I do. I might be new, but I’m not blind.”

I stand frozen for a moment before turning away. My heart pounds in my throat.

“She doesn’t deserve you,” she says behind me.

I pause, trying to take in her words. I turn to face her again. “And how would you know that?”

She pushes herself off the wall, beginning to turn in the other direction. “Because I see you, and she doesn’t.”

I’m left staring at her back as she disappears around the corner, and her words bury themselves within me. Something feels heavy in my back pocket. I remember the envelope. I push through the crowd, past the kitchen and out the backdoor, trying to find someplace I can breathe. More people are spread out across the patio, and someone has a fire going in the backyard. I shiver and start down the steps, the letter still feeling heavy in my jeans pocket.

I’m sick of the burden I’ve been carrying around, and that’s really what it feels like: a burden. I want to let go. I want to move on. I want her to mean nothing to me because that’s exactly what I mean to her. I don’t want to be forced to change into someone I’m not.

The fire burns hot in front of me and somehow my letter makes it into my hand. I don’t remember how it got there.

I start to hear the voices around me, and they’re the very people I don’t want to be around. I hear Luke, Grady, and also Nick. But then I hear her, and I looked over to see them laughing at some unheard joke. She wears a scarf around her neck and her cheeks are red, from the fire or cold I can’t tell. My heart aches.

Luke notices me staring. “You got a problem?” His tone is warning and I know he hasn’t forgotten what he did to me. Everyone else stops and stares too. I finally look into her eyes and I say nothing.

She narrows them and nods once towards me. “Do I know you?” she asks suggestively.

Does she know me? I want to yell that I’ve been in the same grade, and some of the same classes, with her for the past three years. I want to scream that I’ve thought of her everyday without fail, but she never once even looked at me long enough to recognize me.

My fist tightens around my letter and feel myself tearing in two. I could give her the letter, hoping she’ll finally see me, or I can throw it in the fire and let go of her forever, finally relieving myself of that burden of hope.

She doesn’t deserve you.

I want to believe it. I really do.

I don’t want to have someone like her without being myself, and for the first time in my life, I find it incredibly easy to choose between the two. Her, or me.

“No,” I say. “I don’t think you do.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever spoken to her.

My fingers slowly open and I let my letter drop into the fire.

It’s like freedom and I smile.

“You’re a freak, you know that?” Luke says. His friends laugh, but for some reason she still stares, without smiling. Does she finally know? I kind of hope so. Maybe she’ll feel invisible just as I had.

I turn and walk back towards the house, feeling eyes on the back of my neck. They may be laughing, but that hint of a smile stays there as I walk back inside.

I feel like I have control of my life finally, however sad that seems.

I need to be myself, not someone I want her to see. I had been molding myself around her, wasting my time because I wanted to believe she would like me back.

I am myself now, and nobody else.

Everyone is counting down to midnight like it’s New Year’s Eve. I stop and look across the room. People are already getting close to whoever they want to kiss, and I see the girl from the hallway through the crowd.

I start forward.

8, 7

She smiles at the sight of me.

6, 5

My heart swells because I’ve never felt better.

4, 3

We stop inches apart.

2 . . . 1

I would rather be no one else but myself.