For starters, the title alludes to the famous line from the 1995 thriller The Usual Suspects. But that doesn’t mean my monologue is about it. In fact, it only gets referenced a few times. I just chose that line for a catchy title.
So, here’s the thing. On April 12, I finished reading Ralph Waldo Ellison’s debut novel, Invisible Man. And when I did, I was completely moved, and felt immediate feelings of mysterious similarity to the book.
And that’s the catch.
Why would I, who hadn’t experienced any sign of racism, relate to a book that was (what I believe) centered around it? Well, that’s because there was another one of multiple themes that were featured: invisibility. But then again, I’m not experiencing social invisibility to the point I am cut off from how the world works, but still.
I am the one who’s invisible.
For starters, I have tremendous problems with communication. I don’t know how to talk to people in a way that can possibly intrigue them with a conversation. The days I tried that, and it went as pictured are long gone. Maybe it’s just me, or the fact that I’m in middle school and that I need to square up. You see, I’m clueless. I’m clueless about how the world is working now. I’m clueless about how to find actual good, and quite literally real friends. I’m just clueless.
Just clueless.
In the book, the unnamed narrator goes through many scenarios to attempt to find those whom he can trust, or can lead to trust him, but he fails. His life takes a full circle to lead him to where he started, nobody to notice him. Other than his family, and a few others. Now that’s the thing. Sometimes, particularly when I enter conversations, people usually refer to a very silly mistake I made in the past and shy me away. I mean, I appreciate their memory, but they can’t just reject me because of that.
If they could do that, they would be pretty good at finding loopholes, in my opinion.
Now, there’s this one line in the book I intimately remember. It’s the very last line, “Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?” To be honest, I am in the lower frequencies. I must ascend through higher planes to participate in socializing, but instead, I am thrown back to where I was. But it doesn’t matter anymore.
Because after some clarity, invisibility now feels good.
It feels like my habitat. My protection from any force that is destined to cripple my soul. Anyways, the companions I made are fake. So then, what is there to worry about? If the environment for discussion and friendship is fake, then what is the need to show my true colors to a place where it won’t matter?
I might be the Devil himself. But nobody cared to notice.