Written But Never Sent, part two

Each time I see him, I see a clear reflection of myself. We function the same way. Slow to start. Easily lost. Reading the same line over and over and over until giving up feels easier than trying again. I know the feeling of not understanding what everyone else does. I know the feeling of believing I am stupid and 15 steps behind even when I work 20 times harder than anyone else in my class. I know what it feels like to race against my grades and hide my misunderstanding behind humor. There is someone I know and I can tell he is drained. Drowning in silence and sitting in a room full of people who never really see him. Helpless. I look, and I know I should help. I want to help. I see you when others don't, and what I see, I feel for. There is someone I know. Someone who talks loud until his friends turn away. Someone who sinks when he is alone. Someone whose head rests quietly on folded arms, low to the desk.  I understand his words and excuses, saying he's tired. He is, but he's not just waiting for sleep. Not just in the way they think. Sometimes I wish I could just ask what’s wrong, let them know it's alright, be a space to land, to listen, to care. I can't. I care through the words on this page that will never reach this person I know. Once you become invisible, you stay that way. I wouldn't dare cross that line.

Copyright © Amanda Nolan | Year Posted 2025

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