There’s nothing quite as unsettling as being treated like air. Not in the way that air is essential or life-giving, but in the way that it is invisible—something that exists without acknowledgment. That’s exactly how I feel every time I step into the presence of this father and daughter.
I remember the first time I noticed it. I was speaking, engaging, trying to involve myself in their world. And yet, there was nothing—no response, no flicker of recognition, no indication that my words even registered. It was as if I had never spoken at all. They would carry on with their conversations, their laughter, their inside jokes, as though I were not even in the room.
At first, I thought it was an oversight. Perhaps they were simply distracted or preoccupied. But as time passed, I realized this was no accident. It was intentional, a deliberate exclusion that stung more than outright cruelty ever could. There is a certain pain in being ignored, in being made to feel irrelevant, that cuts deeper than direct rejection. A cruel word acknowledges your existence, but silence erases you.
I’ve questioned myself repeatedly—have I done something to deserve this treatment? Have I wronged them in some way? If so, I wish they would say it outright, give me a chance to explain, to apologize, to make amends. But they do not give me that luxury. Instead, they treat me like a ghost that lingers in their periphery, present but unseen, heard but never listened to.
I observe them in their world, the father and daughter, wrapped up in their own bubble. Their laughter rings through the air, their conversations flow with ease. There is warmth between them, an unbreakable bond that I cannot penetrate. I wish I could share in it, be a part of that connection, but I am always on the outside looking in.
It is a lonely feeling.
Some days, I try harder. I offer kindness, compliments, small gestures that might invite acknowledgment. But it is like throwing pebbles into a vast ocean, swallowed without a trace. Other days, I give up. Why should I keep knocking on a door that will never open? Why should I keep trying to be seen by those who have already decided I am invisible?
The most painful part is not even the lack of acknowledgment—it’s the realization that they do not care. If I were to vanish from their world entirely, they would continue as they are, unaffected. That truth weighs heavy on my heart, but in some ways, it also frees me. If my presence means so little to them, then why should their perception of me hold any power over my self-worth?
So I begin to shift my focus. If they refuse to see me, then I will see myself. If they ignore my voice, then I will speak louder in places where I am heard. If they dismiss my presence, then I will find spaces where I am welcomed. I may be treated like air in their world, but somewhere else, I will be a storm, a force to be reckoned with.
And one day, they may notice my absence. By then, I won’t be waiting to be seen.
