I am invisible.
For a long time and more.
Even in a group of barely four people, no one can see that I'm here.
Nobody hears I'm saying anything.
So I went silent.
I dress inconspicuously.
I'm a piece of furniture.
If I take a look at science, it's even possible.
I'm just a pile of cells.
Cells that have been dividing since the first humanity.
- primal cells.
Cells divide, die, are replaced. Constantly.
Sometimes after a month. Sometimes after years. But they disappear.
What I'm observing is my version of those cells.
What someone else perceives, I don't know.
Maybe a random form.
Maybe I only exist in my head.
Only I hear what I'm saying.
I think I'll say it.
I'm not there anymore.
Doesn't it all matter that much.
Who said again:
“I think, so I exist.”?
Maybe he is wrong, too.
Then let me write it.
Maybe someone will read it.