I want one.
Then I will know why I feel that even though I’m nearly 6′ tall with outlandishly loud glasses, and have no fear of expressing my opinions publicly, even though they change with the wind and I argue my next feeling with the same commitment to feeling the truth, my feet firmly planted…even though I am here…I feel see through.
I want one also because it was so helpful to Harry Potter.
I want one because in my home that always has music playing, and a dog generally barking, and a cat usually sleeping, eating, or hissing at the dog that’s always barking, and a man whose moods change with the movement of the second hand clock…I feel like I don’t exist. Like I have nothing interesting to offer. Like my words melt like ice as they leave my mouth, leaving only the impression there was something there, but, wait…no…nothing.
If I had one I could hide behind it…I would know that I wasn’t there, though I was. I would know that I wasn’t taking up space, although I was. I would know that I was being ignored because I didn’t exist, though I am here.
I feel like I keep climbing a beautiful tree that grows virtually under my feet and with each step upward my cells are infused with joy and clarity. With peace and grace. And every time I look up I’m rewarded with this sense of expansion, of creativity, of motion within stillness.
But my neck hurts from looking up so long.
I mean. Even though no one can see me, I feel ridiculous walking around bumping into things, always looking up and never straight ahead.
If I had on my invisibility cloak….I wouldn’t feel so silly. Maybe I wouldn’t even be able to see myself.