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I was 11 when he married her.
I remember thinking I’d be fine.
I thought I could handle it—
handle her, handle him.
But that’s the thing about 11—
you still believe things are supposed to work out.
That people who say they love you,
actually do.

I left for boarding school a few months later.
Not because I wanted to,
but because she said it was better that way.
She said it would be easier
if I wasn’t around,
if I wasn’t so complicated.

They never called me.
Never came to visit.
When they did, it was always her—
her smile too tight,
her love too sweet,
like she was trying to convince herself
that I wasn’t a problem.
And I knew—I always knew—
I wasn’t wanted.

At first, I pretended like nothing had changed.
I pretended to still be part of the family,
like I wasn’t living in a house
full of people who weren’t really mine.
But then she started making rules—
rules about what I could say, what I could do.
“Don’t make things awkward,” she’d tell me,
when I just sat there,
shaking.

I could feel the panic growing,
a buzz in my head that wouldn’t stop,
like my skin was too tight
and my chest was too small
to hold everything inside.

At first, I ate because I had to,
because it was expected.
But then I started skipping meals.
Then it became easier not to eat at all.
The hunger felt like control—
something to grab onto when everything else was slipping away.
It wasn’t about being thin.
It was about being nothing.
Because nothing felt better than this constant, gnawing emptiness.

When I came home on holidays,
I barely touched the food.
I’d sit at the table,
pick at my plate
like I wasn’t starving inside.
I told myself I didn’t need it—
I didn’t need anything.
But my stomach would ache,
and my skin felt too tight,
like I was holding onto everything I wasn’t
and trying to keep it inside.

Her kids would call him “Dad”
and I wouldn’t say a word.
I wouldn’t say anything.
Because everything I wanted to say
would sound like a desperate plea—
please don’t leave me out,
please notice me,
please love me—
but I couldn’t make it stop.
I couldn’t stop needing him.

I remember walking through the door at Christmas,
bags still heavy with the weight of the drive,
and the smell of their dinner
sickly sweet in the air.
Her kids were already at the table,
laughing about something I didn’t know,
something I wasn’t part of.
They didn’t even look at me.
And I didn’t look at them,
because I knew what would happen—
they’d say something,
and I’d say nothing,
and she’d get mad
because I was “too distant.”

So I sat in the corner,
fading into the background,
just another shadow in the house
that wasn’t mine anymore.
I wanted to scream,
but I couldn’t.
Because if I did,
he’d look at me with that sad, apologetic look,
and she’d stand behind him,
looking at me like I was the problem.
She always did.

I stopped eating again.
I stopped feeling hunger—
just this emptiness
that felt like it was made of nothing
but air and anxiety.
It was like everything in me
was too loud,
too much,
and I had to turn it off.
I wanted to disappear
because being here,
being visible,
hurts too much.

When I went back to school,
I didn’t even feel like I was leaving home.
Home wasn’t something I had anymore.
I had a room with my name on it,
but it wasn’t my home.
I had a body that didn’t fit,
a mind that never stopped screaming,
and a heart that couldn’t stop wanting
someone who would never choose me.

The only time I felt like I was wanted
was when I wasn’t there at all.
When I was invisible.
When I didn’t have to be anything
but the silence in the room.
Neil Coleman Mar 31
It took forever for the hot water to get up to my room 
Every hotel I get a room in the hot water takes forever to get to me
I'm not kidding 
And I'm on like the 3rd floor, not the 12th or the 32nd
The hotels I stay in don't have 12 stories and definitely don't have 32

But the view was ok
The roof of the lobby had a lot of things going on
Like big fans and motors and pipes
And water in big puddles
All the hotels I stay in have a lot of water in big puddles
They really do

But the girl at the check-in counter really knew what she was doing
She checked me in real quick 
And she was friendly
Most check-in girls are not friendly at all
They act like you're a inconvenience to their job
Which is checking people in to the hotel
Check-in guys too

But when they're nice it makes everything seem not so shady 
I hate it when people treat you like you're standing in a shadow
like you're invisible
It makes me feel like they can't see me
It really gets annoying after a while
Like all they see is a big fan and a lot of water in a big puddle

It really does
R Spade Mar 22
Kneel beyond my throne, unaware it was born of lies.
Eyes linger on my every move, whispers shouting.
Am I meant to replicate perfection, or just die trying?
Cold smiles approach, thinking they have uncovered my tell-tale heart.

But I am a seasoned ghost.

Being raised to suffer, I have learned to hide.
To mold myself to fit the standards.
To grit my teeth and stand still as my form shifts once again.
Knowing the brief seconds of waking are a soft euphoria I will soon miss.

I wake to a dawn meant only for the dying.

I wake to reset my own jaw,
bending my bones backwards
with the occasional crack,
a ritual ensuring I resemble something human.

People believe I am powerful, successful, happy,
(but i am as fragile as frost on a window touched by morning).
My costume is convincing, but cannot change what I am.
Invisibly so, and so the pretending continues.
I walk through the halls
like a forgotten ghost
everyone looks through me
like they can't see me
but to be honest
it's better if they don't see me
because when they do
the things they say
oh, the things they say
hurt like a knife to the chest
the pounding of my heart
spills the blood of anger
and seeping sadness
and splatters on the walls
teju Mar 14
Open doors, yet stuck inside.
Come and go, I don't care.
But the pain,
an unknown ache in me
weighs heavy.

Like a ghost wandering lost,
I move with invisible wound.
Some days it hits harder,
Just like last night.
Just like today.

This lonely, silent hollow ache,
I don't know why I push everyone away.
It’s just another day.

I can't relate, I can't explain.
Nothing feels real outside,
Nothing makes sense inside,
It's heavy.

I wish I could figure it out.
You treated me
like you couldn't
SEE ME,
You
IGNORED ME,
You
LOOKED RIGHT
THROUGH ME,
You
AVOIDED ME,
It was so PLAIN to
SEE,
You couldn't
CARE LESS
ABOUT ME,
YOU JUST DIDN'T
WANT TO BE
WITH ME!!
I find it
INCREDIBLE,
You acted
as if I was
INVISIBLE!!
WHY DO YOU DO THIS???
You just didn't care,
as if I am
TRANSPARENT,
or not even
STANDING THERE,
But That's OKAY
I will let you BE,
and find someone
who will actually
SEE ME,
I find it REMARKABLE,
In this,
I do BELIEVE,
I will find someone
SPECIAL, and
who will
LOVE AND SEE
ME!!!!
TO YOU I'M
INVISIBLE,
BUT TO HIM I'LL BE
VISUAL!!!
SO, GO ON AND LEAVE,
SINCE YOU FELT I
MADE YOU
MISERABLE!!!


B.R.
Date: 07/04/2023
Maryann I Feb 21
I laid my hands upon the altar,
knuckles bruised from silent prayers,
whispers turned to fleeting echoes,
lost among the empty air.

I built you bridges out of marrow,
stitched the stars into your sky,
gave you light when nights were hollow,
yet you never asked me why.

My name fades in nameless hours,
scattered like the autumn leaves,
a monument of quiet labor
built for those who never grieve.

And still, I stand, arms outstretched,
woven from the threads of care.
The world moves on—I disappear,
a ghost who gave, yet none were there.
1. Sacrifice Without Reward
Andrew Feb 13
Losing someone you never even dated is a different kind of Heartbreak.
You pour your emotions,
Your quiet hopes, into a connection that never fully existed outside of your Mind.

Every Smile,
Every Glance, becomes something you overanalyze.
Searching for a sign, a spark.
Something that might prove she felt it too.
But most days, it's like standing in the shadows.
Watching her move through life without ever really seeing you.

Stuck in this in-between,
Too much for just friends,
Somehow not enough for anything more.
And that Stings.
Wondering if she ever saw what you felt.
If she ever noticed your quiet affection or your subtle longing.

Unrequited love doesn't fade,
It buries itself deep, waiting in some quiet corner of your heart.
Still Aching.
And sometimes we wait too long for the love we deserved all along.
Forgetting that our worth is never tied to someone else recognition of it.

But you can never forget the weight of love unspoken,
A story that never began yet still feels irrepairably broken.
Maria Feb 6
I want to go home so much!
I want to go to my open essence.
There’s coffee on the table. It’s undrunk.
And there’s my future, which is pure taintless.

I want to go home, to my place.
The time is ripe: my heart and soul are holed.
To hell with being along! I go home!
I am invisible. And here I am cold.
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