Peripherals

They are there. In the periphery of your vision. Shadows you can’t quite make out. Voices you can’t quite catch as you rush by. They had faces once – names even – but you no longer recall them. No longer remember why you noticed them in the first place. So, you don’t anymore. With everything else going on in your life, how could you? There is so little time…

 

Like comets they drift about in orbits so vast and obscure it seems almost utterly random when one of them happen past near enough to make eye contact with you. For a brief moment a well of memories surface. Whatever passed, it came with enough gravitational pull to fleetingly join your paths again. Not necessarily an unpleasant encounter. Still, how often do we really enjoy staring that which drifts in the periphery of our vision straight in the face? It is distracting from what is right in front of us… from life… from the things that really matter. We put up with them… enjoy them perhaps even… because of the brevity of their passing, but they do not belong or fit within the confines of our everyday lives. Their peripheral presence though… is appreciated. Gives us something to seek when all else fails. If we can push away the questions.

 

I am one such comet, tugged and torn into different directions by those I encounter… their influence unnoticed by them, but I feel it. To them I am invisible. A peripheral. Pleasant in occasional passing. Insignificant in the present. If my trajectory were to suddenly alter tomorrow and take me away from here there would be no gap where I used to stand. No void to fill. My voice would not be missed in the murmur of inconsequential voices, making up the background noise of their world. My presence is of no purpose and no significance.

 

I am a peripheral.

 

I am invisible.

 

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Peripherals

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