There are many first-world problems that we already deal with: bedtime, waking up, running out of chocolate, raising kids, how Twitter works, No-See-Ums, etc.
(In case you’re not familiar with No-See-Ums, they are what the name implies: barely visible, teensy-weensy bugs that will try to consume you one tiny painful bite at a time. They are a**holes. If you’re planning a trip to FL, grab yourself and every family member a Head Net. They help with mosquitoes too.)
Low self-esteem does not help with any of the daily aspects of being human. Sometimes, I feel like a multiple personality disorder is necessary to survive, but I am not a good actress. I cannot be what I am not, though not for lack of trying. I am a kind person who wants to be friendly and help people. Except, at what cost?
I feel like people look at me in public as if I am either this:
I know exactly why they’re looking at me like that… My self-conscious conscience tells me, “I’m not dressed nicely, my face is fat, and my fingers look like bratwurst. Why didn’t I put on my earrings, at least?!
Nobody is going to be interested in whatever you have to say because you sweat excessively and are just plain weird. You don’t think like them. Look. They’re already bored.”
Then this version of myself appears:
I wish I could vanish into absolute nothingness.
When I try to get attention, I seem to have the amazing power of
At the deli counter, for instance. They call my number…. “Why can’t the person looking for the next-in-line see I have my hand up in the air, waving at them?
And why in the F*** did they just take the next person??”
What I really want out of life… is to simply be seen and accepted as an introverted woman who is not going to be the life of the party. When I do talk, I do not want be interrupted by those around me who can’t seem to stand being listeners. When I talk, what I have to say tends to be important and relevant to the conversation because of my quiet observations. I can be funny too. Only… not many know.
When I write, I feel like I can do ANYTHING.
My mind works in such a way, that I feel a superpower finally kicking in – no longer invisibility. FLIGHT.
Maybe I blend in with the rest of the world around me, but I will strike out with words, lashing and clamping on until I feel like releasing. The more I write, the more visible I become.
My characters develop in such a way they become living people. Emotional attachments begin to grow between the reader and the characters. Or if they’re not meant to be liked, well, you’re really not going to like them and they will give you plenty of reasons not to. The realms become part of the physical world. The theories and ideas are plausible.
The story is no longer just a ‘story’.
Someday, I hope to accomplish this and finally be free of the restraints of the daily invisibility, loneliness, and degradation. Until then, maybe you could help by reading my book and see why I will one day become the Viper.
By J.E. DiPalo