As a youngster I had the feeling I was somehow invisible. No matter what lengths I went to to get attention, it was always the wrong sort of attention. It was always "trouble". I just wanted to be seen and understood, but I was sure that no one did understand me and no one cared enough to try.
This feeling has persisted. When I was the subject of a silly local rumour recently, I felt, more than anything, flattered that I was important enough to gossip about. I expect people to forget who I am, and am surprised when it turns out they havn’t. When someone calls me by my name I sometimes get a little thrill of pleasure. When my partner fell in love with someone else I was neither surprised nor indignant: it just seemed inevitable.
