Invisible

I am the invisible. I am the fixer. I am the friend. Life has her down. She is depressed. She looks sick. She is always sad. She’s the girl with the broken smile and beautiful eyes that view the world in a unique way. She is something special. Feeling, oh so feeling, letting the world weigh on her shoulders. She is high, a cloud floating in the vast blue sky, and then she is low, a crumbling rock in the deepest valley of the Grand Canyon. The people around her float and crumble with her. They cherish her hugs; hugs unlike any others. They talk with her, flirt with her, feel with her. I am the invisible. I am always there feeding her, supporting her, advising her, never giving up on her. I am the fixer. When she is down, I lift her up, slowly pushing her back to her place in the atmosphere. I am the friend. I make her laugh when she’s sad. When she needs a hug, I am there. We sing together, gossip together, laugh together. She knows me. She loves me. She sees me. The rest of the people see the girl with the broken smile who reaches out and brings them into the world inside her head. They look through me and ask her, “Are you alone?”