I have a super power. It isn’t one that stops bullets, bad guys or runaway trains. I am the embodiment of a classic muse. I’m actually there (or at least there is evidence that I am), but my presence is quiet. You won’t see me at work, that’s just how it goes. You probably won’t even notice me unless someone points me out. I’m the one chastised for not speaking up and sharing with the class, only to shake my head and bite my tongue. Where you’ll miss me is when I’m somewhere else and little things don’t get done.
The fair folk had fun when they put me together. Any idea I wish to voice is masked until it is a random thought of someone else. When they happen upon it less than 2 minutes later, it is a great and wondrous thing. I bite my tongue, because to do otherwise seems silly. Even if I could replay the previous exchange, they will not want to hear. If I get frustrated and demand to be heard, I can look forward to be challenged for not speaking up. Thus I am caught between the devil and the sea.
I’ve learned ways to get my ideas heard, but to do that I must give them up first. There are some who can hear me. If I quietly whisper my thoughts to them and use their voice instead of my own, then I can inject ideas, but never be given the notice as the originator.
I am the cobbler elf who works unseen.
I am the whisper of a muse too quiet for most to hear.
I am credited with little, but blamed for much.
I am dismissed as irrelevant until demonized for daring not to be.
Here is a not-so-secret secret: my methods to force people to notice me when all else fails are passive aggressive. When I’ve beating my head against walls until I’ve given myself a migraine, I’ll react like a petulant child. I will take my ball and go watch from the side. At that point my attitude is that I’ll let you slip on the ice, trip on the branch and generally figure things out on your own. If you refuse to listen, then I’m not wasting any more effort talking.
Invisible in any medium