I wander through my day, washing dishes, paying bills, shopping for food, with little interaction with others, except a pleasantry or expected “have a nice day.” I sit in my chair in the living room that is our current space, reading random crap – it is indeed crap, not soul food, not inspirational – while he lays on the couch reading a book. I ask a question; the words float on the air and then dissipate into the stillness. There is a no response. I am unheard.
I stare at him, watching the expressions on his face flit past as he reads, my thoughts tumultuous and dark. After what seems to be an hour, but is more likely minutes, he looks up, smiles slightly, his mouth a bit tight, a bit distracted, and then goes back to his book. He does not see my darkness; he does not see the daggers ripping apart my inner world and threatening my outer one. I am unseen.
I walk through riotous green woods, staring at the moist ground, covered in sticks and leaves. Here it does not matter if I am seen or heard. There is no one around to deny it to me. Ahead of me is a large oak tree, trunk covered in random moss patches, and branches reaching up to the sky, to tall to truly see the top. I stare at the tree and think of the age old adage, “If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?” And does it truly matter if it does, but no one hears? The tree is unheard, the tree is unseen, and yet, the tree exists.
I stare resolutely out into the green chaos of the woods. “I exist,” I whisper, the gentle breeze shredding the words before they travel too far. “I exist.” I state loudly, my hands on my hips, Wonder Woman style. “I exist!” I yell, the noise echoing in many directions around me. “I EXIST!”, I scream, my face exposed to the dappled sunlight streaming through the trees. Here, in the woods, where there is no one to hear, no one to see, I exist, just like the oak tree. Unheard, unseen – I can still be me.