unseen

I’m a watcher An observer A fly on the wall I’m big, but small I see everything that happens outside of me, yet I see nothing I experience everything everyone else does, yet I experience nothing I notice things, the little things The way that someone walks, the way they flick their head to look away from me Is it something I said? Or didn’t? Do I look small from the outside? Would anyone ever notice me the way I notice everyone else? I see you, the other observers, the ones in the shadows. Would I ever get them to see me? To know me? When will someone take special notice for the way I walk, for the way I behave? It was never going to happen. How can one experience so much but so little? I want to be known. To be watched. To be noticed. But that was never going to happen, for even when they know me, they pretend they don’t. Even when they see me, they wish they never had. Was it enough to live? Or did I have to feel like I was living?