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English
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Published:
2016-10-01
Words:
384
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1/1
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Another day

Summary:

He knows it's stupid, but it makes him feel so small. Like he doesn't even exist outside of his own mind.
When strangers look right through him, it's like they walk right through him.

He starts to doubt whether people can see him at all.

Loosely based on 'Invisible' by 5 Seconds of Summer.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

It's always the little things that hurt.

 

Like the pang in his chest when his friends talk over him during lunch.

The way his parents only talk to his sister when she's home.

And how they dismiss any accomplishments he's made with his music.

He can't help but feel guilty for himself when the group chat falls silent after he's sent a message.

 

It goes further than just not being heard.

Sometimes people deliberately ignore him.

 

It's happened a couple times that his friends go sit at another table, when they can see him sitting by himself.

During gym class he's always 'accidentally forgotten about' when picking teams.

He's always the one that has to ignite the conversation.

And has to try his damnedest to keep it alive.

 

School is probably one of the most unforgiving places.

 

The teachers don't even bother to ask him if he understands everything.

When he wears something new nobody comments on it like they used to.

Even on his social media nobody interacts with him anymore. No matter how many people follow him.

 

He knows it's stupid, but it makes him feel so small. Like he doesn't even exist outside of his own mind.

When strangers look right through him, it's like they walk right through him.

 

He starts to doubt whether people can see him at all.

 

It's been like that for so long now, the days melt away in a blur.

He supposes he's always been a bit of a background character.

It feels like he's not even there, like he's not real.

 

He spends his time at home writing down his thoughts.

And for the smallest of moments, he feels a little bit better about himself.

 

One day he picks up his bass again, and plays until his fingers are bleeding.

 

It feels good. It makes him feel alive.

So he keeps on playing, and keeps on writing.

Day in, day out.

The only bit of clarity in the big blur of his daily life.

 

Maybe one day he'll write a song.

Maybe one day he'll live his life like normal again.

 

He doesn't know. He just plays.

Oh, the irony of his parents acknowledging him only when the music's too loud.

 

He can only hope that one day,

 

just maybe,

 

they'll hear him, instead.

Notes:

Talk to me on Tumblr: @clrummer-boy

(Seriously, if you need to talk I'm here for you)