I am the invisible man I walk with footsteps of none, for my existence a lonely search of a life to call home. I am the seeker. My game of life falls with doubt as I strive to be the important one. They look so great up there in the tower of vain, and that is the place I want to be. Mine are the thoughts of a tiny man, yet one day I can be proud of what I have done, so then I can take my place high in the tower of vain, until that time the pretense goes on. My childhood journey was so deserted, a place of suffering, a place without love. My past is a dull empty space and my memories remain in a dark corner of my mind never to be visited. The result of recalling my past would unleash the destruction of all who I am, and all that I will be. The head doctors say, talk about it, get it all out so you can deal with it, I say hurl it down the bottomless pit never to be raised. We grow, we survive, and the loveless child becomes the hungry man looking for affection, so I hope that one day my importance will exist to others.
This need for attention drives my climb to reach the top, yet the end is never in sight, so I slip and slide with weakening thoughts of, will I ever reach the top.
My toil of endless nights attending the great Facebook game of vanity, yet in my case the need to be noticed with my constant posts illustrating my wonderful life, and my assumption, they must reply, yet my reality is a troubled mind of none consequential thoughts. The agonising truth is, I never get a comment or even a like.
Fast wheels and designer shirts, the herd looks up with open mouths and impressionable eyes to envy the giants of the superior world, so I buy the wheels, the shirts, and still, my boasts are never seen. Maybe I could take acting lessons, and become a politician, no experience needed, or with my acting abilities, I could be a tough movie star like the ones who have been around forever still kicking ass when they are seventy and wearing more makeup than a Saturday night drag queen performing a comedy act on a cold winter’s night. Or maybe I could just work hard doing the things I like and deserving the applause without the pretence of the one I am not. And now, after all my desperate endeavours to raise my pathetically low esteem, I realise that I don’t need the wheels, the designer shirts, and the attention of the herd. I’ll be just me, happy in my shell and achieving my goal in the profession I like. To love yourself is to love what you do. I am the invisible man no more. I’ll walk the path of friendship and kindness with the real people of the world.
I am a tiny light in this world that joins with all the other tiny lights, and together we can make this world a brighter place. I think now, that I have finally found that special place, a life to call home.
I’ve been happy over the years with my new reality, and now I can announce that I have picked the winning numbers for the lottery. I have been asked if I would like publicity, and to be involved in lottery advertisements.
I think you know what my answer will be.
I bloody-well do want publicity, I got there in the end.
I am new to writing. I have only been writing for one year. I have had no education on writing, although I have always been interested in words. With family responsibilities, bringing home the bacon so to speak, I have not had the chance to write. Being the youthful age fifty eight, I am not ready for the field, so I work, and learn to write. It does take time to learn, the river flows so small, yet gains in size, it travels so far, no shortcuts along the way.