Invisible Woman

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him:

He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;

But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—

And admirably schooled in every grace:

In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

--"Richard Cory" by Edward Arlington Robinson

I often feel invisible.

And misunderstood. 

I'm not suicidal.

I just want someone to talk to. 

Someone who will take the time to understand.

Someone besides my therapist.

Someone who would enjoy my company.

Not someone who says, "Oh, you should do this! My friends and I did it a few days ago, and it was awesome!"

There are only so many things you can do alone before you get lonely. 

There are only so many stories you can listen to before you want to tell your own.