On being invisible...
I love my family, I really do, but most of the time when we're all together I feel utterly invisible. We don't always share meals anymore, as everyone has their own hectic schedule, but every now and then we all manage to sit down together. I like these occasions, honestly, but sometimes they make me feel a bit empty.
In my family there is always some conversation going on. When we're together there is always something to talk about. A few years ago Sunday lunch was the time to get caught up with everything. My mom would tell us about the subjects that needed our attention as a family, and everyone else could share whatever they wanted. It was nice, but I rarely had anything to discuss, though I took part in all other discussions.
Now things are a bit different. We don't seem to have family things to discuss anymore, but meal times are still the time to share stories. The thing is, I still have no stories to share, and my brother, on the other hand, seems to have no end of stories to tell. In fact, he never shuts up. There is always something going on with him. He's met this or that nice person (usually a musician he likes), he's been asked to play here or there, with incredible people and so on. Or he just tells us about his endless list of upcoming performances.
He's a musician, and a very good one. He plays the guitar, and pretty much every other cords instrument there is (some I never even knew existed), and he has about four different bands, all playing in various places and establishments. My mom and dad usually go see him play, but I rarely do. It's not that I don't enjoy the music, I do - and lord knows I know them all, what with him playing them 24/7 - but it's usually late at night, and I feel rather stupid going to a bar with my parents. I don't even drink.
Anyway, my point is, my brother is kind of... larger than life, I guess. When I was younger I used to be very jealous of the easy way he connected with people, while I had to struggle with my shyness to talk to anyone. I've gotten better now. That is, I'm not so crippling shy anymore, though I still find it hard to start a conversation with complete strangers. My social life is pretty nonexistent, so nothing particularly interesting ever happens to me. I feel like a tiny blip in the radar, while my brother is a nearly blinding sun.
The truth is, I don't have much in common with my family. My parents and my brother share a passion for music which sustains most of the conversations we have nowadays. And while I like music too, it's not the same. My father also plays the guitar - though not particularly well - and my mother loves to sing, so the three of them can go on for hours on it. Music is a constant feature in our house. Me, I can't play anything (I tried to learn the guitar when I was a child and it was a total failure. I tried the keyboard later and it was only marginally better), and I don't feel comfortable singing in public. So, while they're going on and on about it, I fade into the background, an invisible presence at the table. If I weren't there, I doubt they'd notice my absence. I'm perfectly superfluous. Pointless.
The things I care about, television shows, books, reading and writing, none of these are things I feel I can share with them. I feel like a stranger. And lonely. So fucking lonely sometimes.
I guess that's why I'm writing this. To feel less alone, even if no one will ever read it. And maybe one day I'll have the courage to broach this subject with them. I'll tell them I feel excluded and could they please look at me? I'm tired of being invisible.
Yesterday was a holiday, and a beautiful day too. My parents were going out, and I had a ton of school things to do. Then my mom asked me to come with them, and I accepted, glad to be included, even if only to a trip to the Botanical Gardens. It was nice. Then we met my brother for lunch and I went back to being invisible.
And lonely.
Story of my life, I guess. Outside looking in.
It's a good thing I'm going out to meet my friends now, maybe it will cheer me up. I hope so, anyway.
In my family there is always some conversation going on. When we're together there is always something to talk about. A few years ago Sunday lunch was the time to get caught up with everything. My mom would tell us about the subjects that needed our attention as a family, and everyone else could share whatever they wanted. It was nice, but I rarely had anything to discuss, though I took part in all other discussions.
Now things are a bit different. We don't seem to have family things to discuss anymore, but meal times are still the time to share stories. The thing is, I still have no stories to share, and my brother, on the other hand, seems to have no end of stories to tell. In fact, he never shuts up. There is always something going on with him. He's met this or that nice person (usually a musician he likes), he's been asked to play here or there, with incredible people and so on. Or he just tells us about his endless list of upcoming performances.
He's a musician, and a very good one. He plays the guitar, and pretty much every other cords instrument there is (some I never even knew existed), and he has about four different bands, all playing in various places and establishments. My mom and dad usually go see him play, but I rarely do. It's not that I don't enjoy the music, I do - and lord knows I know them all, what with him playing them 24/7 - but it's usually late at night, and I feel rather stupid going to a bar with my parents. I don't even drink.
Anyway, my point is, my brother is kind of... larger than life, I guess. When I was younger I used to be very jealous of the easy way he connected with people, while I had to struggle with my shyness to talk to anyone. I've gotten better now. That is, I'm not so crippling shy anymore, though I still find it hard to start a conversation with complete strangers. My social life is pretty nonexistent, so nothing particularly interesting ever happens to me. I feel like a tiny blip in the radar, while my brother is a nearly blinding sun.
The truth is, I don't have much in common with my family. My parents and my brother share a passion for music which sustains most of the conversations we have nowadays. And while I like music too, it's not the same. My father also plays the guitar - though not particularly well - and my mother loves to sing, so the three of them can go on for hours on it. Music is a constant feature in our house. Me, I can't play anything (I tried to learn the guitar when I was a child and it was a total failure. I tried the keyboard later and it was only marginally better), and I don't feel comfortable singing in public. So, while they're going on and on about it, I fade into the background, an invisible presence at the table. If I weren't there, I doubt they'd notice my absence. I'm perfectly superfluous. Pointless.
The things I care about, television shows, books, reading and writing, none of these are things I feel I can share with them. I feel like a stranger. And lonely. So fucking lonely sometimes.
I guess that's why I'm writing this. To feel less alone, even if no one will ever read it. And maybe one day I'll have the courage to broach this subject with them. I'll tell them I feel excluded and could they please look at me? I'm tired of being invisible.
Yesterday was a holiday, and a beautiful day too. My parents were going out, and I had a ton of school things to do. Then my mom asked me to come with them, and I accepted, glad to be included, even if only to a trip to the Botanical Gardens. It was nice. Then we met my brother for lunch and I went back to being invisible.
And lonely.
Story of my life, I guess. Outside looking in.
It's a good thing I'm going out to meet my friends now, maybe it will cheer me up. I hope so, anyway.