Mattering, Or Not

Today’s writing prompt over at MindLoveMisery Menagerie is the image below: Poem–“Alone”, by Edgar Allen Poe.


From the moment I was born, I was alone. Even with my parents and nine brothers and sisters, I was alone. I didn’t look like them — any of them — nor did I think the way they did. I had nothing in common with my “family.”  For awhile I thought that perhaps I’d been adopted, but this was not the case. I was a blood-Poe, yet I felt invisible.

I remember this one time when I was invited to a birthday party. I was maybe six or seven, and very shy. In fact, I was sick over the whole thing and scared to go. But, I went. I didn’t join the Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey game, but no one noticed. I sat at the table with the empty plates and half-eaten birthday cake and watched. Afterward, they all went upstairs for some reason, but I stayed in the basement at the empty birthday table. Two older kids, teen-agers I guess, were watching TV but they didn’t notice me either.

Such a helpless feeling it was, not being noticed, not mattering.

When the party was over, my mother came to pick me up. When I heard her ’66 Plymouth Belvedere pull up, I ran out of that house as fast as I could.

If you’re going to be alone, it’s better to do it with family than strangers.

 

Brownstonedetectives.com

4 thoughts on “Mattering, Or Not

  1. I had an experience like this. A forced party for a little girl – I didn’t know anyone.
    Why do adults think they can make our friends for us by throwing us in a room full of strangers?
    I can relate.

    Like

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