Can you see me?

I am a young teenager in the 1980's and tacky Ninja movies are all the rage. A friend and I decide to go on an adventure, so dressing all in black and covering our faces like Ninjas we embark on a late night garden hopping expedition through his neighbourhood. Over a series of 6 foot high garden fences we climb whilst people sit oblivious in their sitting rooms, the lights inside their homes and the sound from their television sets do more to keep us unnoticed than our fantastical beliefs in our skills.

Inevitably, in the dark, I climbed over a fence and end up tumbling to the floor after stepping blindly on a plant pot. The noise alerted an elderly woman inside her kitchen so she came out to investigate. In the darkness I adopted a foetal position. I was aware that she has seen me but she didn't have a torch so I was a black shadow in the darkness. I moved slowly, adopting the movement and shape of a cat to try and convince her that she had a feline intruder, that was the idea running through my head at the time. Maybe through a combination of darkness, dark clothing and my body I succeeded in tricking her. She didn't seem afraid, she just turned around and walked away after spending what felt like forever looking at me.

Perhaps what really happened that night was that I was invisible.

Invisibility is something I have experienced a lot in my life. Not being seen was something that started from an early age. Unhappily married young parents, both trying to live the lives they want but cannot completely have. A young child with no guidance or boundaries is left to his own devices. Even at the age of 4 I would go with my parents to the markets they worked at, then I would wander off and entertain myself. This wandering spirit was created by neglectful parents and a society that didn't have the same modern day understanding of the predators that lurk, looking for a young victim. Once, late at night, whilst I walked myself home from the youth club via a dark alleyway I was grabbed by a man I could not see. I remember him picking me up and telling me to be calm as I went ballistic, kicking, punching and wriggling to get free. Eventually I broke free, ran home and never looked back at the potential could have been result of that night. In an alternate time line I became a tragic story in a newspaper, in this time line I was lucky.

I had no siblings and due to my independent nature I was never one to mix with my peers. I didn't realise that I was setting my self down the path of invisibility. Even now I have a few select good friends, nothing more.

Being invisible is both a blessing and a curse. When I don't want to be noticed I can pass through unseen or unobserved. I've even learnt the rules of just being visible enough so that people don't question why I'm where I am and then go back to ignoring me. That may sound dubious but it's not, if I'm out in the city and need to use the bathroom I use this skill to use cleaner facilities in hotels rather than the rancid public toilets in the Bullring or Grand Central.

Sometimes I forget that I'm so good at being invisible. I have unintentionally scared people I work with when they turn around and see me by them in staff break room. On the plus side I find it easy to slip away from a works night out when I become bored, the people I work with are not my people, that's just the way it is. But there are downsides. Five years ago I was working for another company when a snow storm hit. The office closed early and everyone with cars started arranging to help those without them get home, except for me. Being invisible means I haven't always used my voice to be seen and heard. Never mind, I indulged in an adventure and met a man in the same predicament as myself on my trek home. As luck would have it we managed to grab one of the last few buses running in the terrible conditions.

Being invisible meant I have struggled to get my needs met over the years. Sometimes when I'm out and about I see couples or groups of friends as I silently walk through the world like a shadow. I envy them, I envy the connections they have made. Birmingham is where I live, work and play but since my marriage ended it has been the city I have been alone in.

When you are raised to be invisible there are some deeper benefits to it. I am capable of existing alone. Not being seen is not the terrible fate that some would fear if they became isolated from their friends, family or loved ones. For me, being alone is normal, even if I do envy others. Being invisible has also played in to my selectiveness over whom I do connect with. Some people are social butterflies, making very loose and meaningless connections with people. I cannot make trivial connections with others as I simply don't need it. Social media is where I have lots of trivial connections but in the real world my connections from social media are passing. For me to open up to someone and let them see me I need something far more than trivial.

So if you walk by me in the street don't worry that you didn't see me, it's just how I am and no offence should be taken. I'm fine with being this way, I've been like it for years and now it's just how I am.

But if you're one of the very few that I do become visible for, be aware that my connection to you is powerful. You've made me want to be seen by you, that's something I don't just do for anyone.

When there is silence can you see me or just the shadows?