Invisible people are real.

You may not see them.

But I do.

I always have.

It was one of my gifts.

I always saw them.

And I always gave them a hand.

I knew how hard it is to be invisible.

How hard it is to fall onto cement and to bleed blood that none can see.

But me. But me.

How hard it is to want to play.

Come play, I will play with you. I can see you.

Invisible people. There are so many of them.

Today I can tell you that every invisible hand that reached out to me was my 'self' searching to be seen. My invisible friends taught me the finest parts of who i was. They taught me compassion and love. They taught me patience and commitment. They taught me perseverance and humor. They taught me how profound creativity is. They were very generous, very kind teachers. They loved me just because I saw them. How strange to be appreciated for seeing something that is so clear and so full of truth and wisdom. My invisible friends were my greatest teachers. They taught me about my soul and my spirit.

But still, I was completely unprepared for becoming invisible myself. And I was completely unprepared for invisible knives and invisible forms of torture and for months of invisible persecution. And I was completely unprepared for what it felt like to be asking for help and for being invisible. And I was completely unprepared for pleading and crying for help and for being invisible. And I was completely unprepared for living a life of invisible knives and invisible torture and invisible visibility.

Oh no, I had the sight to see the invisible because I felt it all with my heart and with my soul. It was easy. But to be invisible myself was a completely different world. A world that began and ended nowhere. A world that added up to nothing. A world that split into invisible pieces held together by invisible glue that bore into me like bones and bricks and iron stakes. A world of no sense.