It is hard

Invisible man never felt like he existed. Perhaps it was because he didn't, really. People never saw him, never acknowledged him, never gave a shit when he spoke.

But he was not always invisible, no. He was visible before he started flying. He was visible when he went to other places. He was only invisible in that particular area. So he wasn't technically invisible then, was he? But he was, at least in the most important area and the area where he spent most of his time.

They thought he was strange. They thought he was outspoken. They thought he was, wait, they didn't even think he existed. In fact, they didn't even think.

So exactly how invisible was he? To shout it out loud, VERY. Cars never seemed to be quite spacious enough, even if they were made for the fattest people on Earth, when he was clearly not there yet. Rooms never had space for him, even if he was to be one and only. He never spoke, but only made noise. He was never there, ever.

Thank God he knew his worth. He knew he was unique, special even. In fact, one of the smart asses were right, for once at least.

"You know what? You're just way ahead of us, you're too good for us, you're ahead of humanity!"

He was, for he had chosen to fly in turbulent air when he could have sailed in smooth seas. He was not what the norm was. He set his own damn pace, which was a god damn speed!

He was good, too good even. Having coaxed, sugar-coated and even played diplomacy, it never seemed to work. Enough was enough. He would not give a shit any more, for there were more shits out there, better shits in fact.