The tale of the Invisibilia Short Story By: Lance Del Prado
Hi it’s me! I bet you don’t know me why would you? Why would you bother with someone like me right?, well I’m part of the Invisibilia
a certain race of humans that are able to hide from people, we look like you, talk like you, and live like you, we have brains, we have thoughts and most of all we have------ feelings, but we have this veil that separates us from you a veil that is fueled by our emotions, it keeps us safe but it also makes us invisible to you, we were never given a choice to be like this, to be--- invisible, though there is one way you may be able to see us, and it’s through “mockery”, somehow when one is in the mood of mocking us they are able to see through our veils, they see our failures, our physique, they see everything , I personally believe it’s because of their emotions, their emotions of wanting to feel better about themselves, how they mock us on how we look and how we act how we are so---- different from them, that is the only flaw in our veils. We can let you see us by talking to you or by asking you things, but soon enough you forget us it’s like we were erased from your memories in an instant, it is our ability and our curse, there is one way you can see and remember us but it is the worst case possible the only time you get to recognize and see us is when we are dead either it’s a natural death or a suicide, somehow the memories of the people we interact with come back, and they remember us, and at that point they saw us without the intention to mock us, they saw us because they begin to pity us, I know this because my friend took his own life a couple of days ago, he took his own life because he didn’t want to be one of the Invisibilia, he wanted to be normal, he wanted to be seen as someone important not as someone who just comes and goes, he didn’t want to be mocked any longer, I could imagine what he must have felt, all the pressure the depression the way he hated himself for what he was and what he looked like, how people would degrade him for being different from them, the way they would degrade us for being inhuman. When he took his own life the people who mocked him began to see him as a hero! Or someone important, they recognized him like he was a prophet like they knew everything about him, some didn’t even know him as if they fabricated their own memories to feel remorse for my friend, it was sad----just---sad some of the Invisibilia say it was a blessing because he got what he wanted he was noticed, but did it really have to be at his death bed? Why did it have to be when he was dead? If this was a blessing then why does it feel like a punishment? We live to be mocked, we live not to be seen, to be ignored like a barren tree without any use to the world! We provide to others, we give them what they need but in the end we are treated like items, like they only see us when they need something, or when they need to feel better about themselves. Why live if society was just gonna treat us like this? They don’t know how much words can hurt, a tongue can cut like a blade leaving a mental scar on us, so why should we be here? Why live? Why bother?