Invisible

It’s incredible the amount of information you are able to gather by simply becoming invisible. When you are not noticed by someone, you can sit there and weep without them ever having a clue. Honestly, it’s kind of nice to be able to walk through the school wearing whatever you feel like, and thinking your thoughts, without once being interrupted. Everything around you becomes a solemn blur, and you discover the pleasant awareness of being completely and totally isolated.
There are many ways you can handle this state of being. For one, you can make a complete fool out of yourself, exclaiming your feelings, until the person is forced to notice your existence. Oh, but there is another way you can handle this. You can walk through the halls and pretend you aren’t there, until slowly people start to walk into you, as if you are, indeed, not there.
This invisibility has such a rush of emotion that comes with it, that if it were a light, it would be the color of yellow. Many have pondered the color yellow and questioned what worth it has. Some have decided that it is a pleasant feeling, while others feel it is rather in the way and has a dreadful glare to it. When I look at this spectrum, I feel a sense of both. Mixed together it feels sort of comforting. Almost as if every feeling of discomfort ever felt is combined, and all you know how to do is wallow in the pain.
Discovering that the world around you has darkness so intense, it must be close to the light, is startling. That you are surrounded by people, who would let something happen to you, because they find someone else as more of a priority, kills. An aching, crippling, sensation runs through your body, and the only solution seems to be sleep. Desiring something so much, seems to make it unreachable. Breathing has become such a burden, that I sometimes wish to end it altogether.
There are many solutions to ending the intense rush that runs through me to just sleep for the rest of my life. One would be actually taking my life. That is not such a good idea, because it results in a home of complete punishment. Another solution would be writing. Transporting all emotion to a single sheet of paper works so many more wonders than I could ever imagine. Not only do I get it out of my mind, but when I question myself, all I must do is look at the ink and I know exactly where I am.