Categories: uncategorized
Date: 06 June 2006 14:55:20
I thought I was invisible.
I've been told that I am a bit secretive, that I don't give a lot away. That's one of those funny things that surprised me when I was told it, but then made perfect sense when it was explained - I saw that I probably do come across like that. But I'm not trying to be secretive. It just doesn't even occur to me to tell people things, and I think it's because I think I'm invisible and that people don't realize I exist. (Here I go talking about my non-existence again. Again.)
I remember in my first year at University I went through an unpleasant situation. (Probably it was entirely of my own making, but I'm not even going to bother thinking about that - it's so long ago and so unimportant). And one evening I found myself in a café with two people I vaguely knew (I fear it might have been a MacDonalds, but if it was I didn't eat anything - honest, guv', I didn't inhale. (Actually, now I think about it, I know for sure I didn't eat anything, but that really is another story)). They were "pomming" - talking about difficult situations they were each in, and generally going "poor old me". I listened and offered what little advice I could (probably much more than I should have done given how young and ignorant I was). And then, after a while, one of them turned to me and asked how I was coping with my situation. I was gobsmacked, because I hadn't remotely thought that either of them would be aware of my situation. Because, I think, I didn't really believe that they were aware of me. I assumed I was kind of part of the wallpaper for them. There, but not impinging on their consciousnesses. I guess now that they thought I was selfish in listening in on all their secrets and yet not opening up myself at all. But I really just didn't think they'd want to know. And in so many other situations I see that I behaved oddly because I assumed I was invisible. Even now I don't tell people things when I should, because the things relate to me, and I can't imagine that they are interested in things about me. (This is one reason I get myself into trouble so often). In fact, the idea that someone might be thinking about me and wondering about me strikes me as really bizarre - both funny and unlikely.
A lot of my personality quirks I can easily link to aspects of my childhood. I hated growing up, and hated the way I was treated by my parents, my brother and everyone at school. So it's easy to pin blame on different people for me being as screwed-up as I am. But this one is different. I can't find anyone to blame for my invisibility complex. It really must be my fault.