The Happy Are Truly Invisible In Their Happiness

When I was young I was treated as if I was invisible,
until I was old enough for family and my teachers
to pretend to have to take notice of me,
to let me know that I had a future
as long as I did only what they wanted.

I did what they wanted until the instruction
ran out, after which nothing happened
several times over. Visits to the job centre
were like season tickets for some
never-ending run of 'Waiting For Godot'. 

Behind their desks, the staff were busy
pretending to engage with callers-in,
and pretending to being human

whilst wishing they were not there.

Now I blog, and my voice, is the page.
My statistics tell me of my audience.
Invisibility is integral to the territory.

I am happy that I make nobody jealous.
As my best friend said when he first met me,
'The happy are invisible in their happiness'.