Do you ever sit in a crowded room and feel alone. As if anything you do goes unnoticed. No one looks your way, and if someone does it's as if they look through you. You feel invisible, unnoticed, unseen. Every move you make uncatalogued as if they never even happened. As if all your actions are obsolete. You could do anything, the world would turn and you would still go unseen. Left with only with your thoughts, and observations.

You watch others, as they live life. They talk to their friends, do their work; all of them clearly noticed. All of them seen by someone, anyone. Is there a way to be seen? Is there a reason I am not? Is there a protective bubble I put over myself? Did I do this to myself? Could it be my posture or my face? Am I putting out an “anti-notice me” vibe? These are all questions I ask myself as I stare off into space, hoping someone will notice my blank expression and ask me what is on my mind. Alas, they all walk by, with other thoughts on their mind and blank expressions of their own; taking strides without a single glance.

My thoughts slowly begin to switch from their previously selfish ways, beginning to wonder about the surrounding people, the people that I have noticed. What is their story? When were they noticed by others, and how did it happen? Everyone has a story or multiple, stories that are unnoticeable to the naked eye. However, it is these stories that shaped the person into who they are; their personality, mindset, and outlook on life. I think, maybe, that’s why others get noticed. I think that because a person’s story can not be seen by the naked eye, they expose it; some more than others. Sharing their personality through visuals, because we know it is easier to talk or ask about objects and appearances than our stories.

My mind drifts yet again. Leading me to think about why we never take time to ask about these stories. Why we would rather notice the exterior rather than the person behind it. Why we remain shallow, continuing to disregard the person as a whole. Why we never slow down to notice the people that are alone in a crowded room. Why we do not ask them about their blank expressions and silent observations. As I continue to think about this my observations no longer remain silent and my face no longer dull. Yet I remain unnoticed. As for my story, that’s reserved for someone brave enough to ask.