Adventures in Invisibility

A sarcastic guide to being ignored, overlooked, and somehow still present

There’s nothing quite like stepping off a tube train and immediately being body-checked by someone who treats the “please let passengers off first” announcement as a quirky suggestion, somewhere between “try the new Pret wrap” and “mind the gap.”

And there I am, just trying to exit like a normal human being, when someone launches themselves inside as if the train is the last chopper out of Saigon. I mutter, “For fuck’s sake,” because honestly — what else is there to say? At this point, it’s practically my commuter mantra.

It feels like, at numerous points, I’ve accidentally popped on a cloak of invisibility — not the cool, magical Harry Potter kind, but the kind where people shove past you because apparently you don’t exist...

Traffic: the place where invisibility becomes a sport

Then there’s the daily driving experience, where apparently my car has a superpower: total optical invisibility. I’m cruising along, fully lit, fully solid, minding my business, heading to the gym for an early class this week — and suddenly someone pulls out of a side road without so much as a glance.

No pause. No hesitation. No “huh, is that a moving vehicle?” Just launch.

Cue me slamming on the brakes, performing an involuntary full-body workout, muttering “For fuck’s sake!” for the second, third, or fourteenth time that day.

And the best part? They don’t even look at you. No sheepish wave. No apology. Not even that awkward half-nod that says, “Yeah, I nearly killed you, my bad.” Nothing. Just blissful, blank-faced oblivion — as if acknowledging your existence would cost them money.

The slow creep of everyday invisibility

These moments aren’t enormous, dramatic events. But they stack up. Like tiny reminders that, apparently, I have the social presence of a smudge on a window.

People shove past you. Cars ignore you. And each time you think, “Is it me? Do I need a neon sign? A foghorn? Should I start carrying flares?”

But here’s the thing (said without sarcasm for a sec)

Other people’s tunnel vision doesn’t mean you’re not worth seeing. Their rudeness doesn’t define your value. Their inability to register your presence has everything to do with them — and absolutely nothing to do with your worth.

The delicious irony of manifested wishes

And then there’s the small, ironic twist of it all: I remember when someone asked me what superpower I’d want, and invisibility sounded fun. Magical. Secret-agent-level fun.

Well, I apparently manifested my wish — just without any of the perks. No secret missions. No dramatic escapes. Just being politely ignored while people barrel past me or drive like maniacs.

Be careful what you wish for, right?

And yet… maybe there’s something to be said for practicing stealth, muttering “for fuck’s sake” under your breath, and being quietly, unshakably present even when the world pretends you’re not.

And if you’re like me — here are a few survival tricks for the chronically unseen

Because yes, the world can be wildly oblivious, but we don’t have to let it turn us into ghosts.

1. Use the Power of the Pause - A tiny moment of grounding (or a deep sigh that could power a wind turbine) can stop you from carrying irritation all day. Not everything requires a meltdown — apparently.

2. Lead with Eye Contact - Sometimes the quickest way to be visible is to look someone directly in the eye. A confident “I exist” gaze can part crowds better than Moses in the red sea

3. Occupy Space on Purpose - Not aggressively — just deliberately. Stand your ground at the tube door. Speak in the meeting even if they don’t bite the first time. Walk like you paid for the pavement.

4. Narrate the Madness - Quietly saying “Ah yes, another episode of I Guess I’m Invisible Today” can turn irritation into something almost funny. Almost.

5. Notice the People Who Do See You - The rare driver who waits. The stranger who says “sorry.” The colleague who listens properly. Tiny encounters, yes — but more powerful than you’d think.

You may feel invisible at times — but you are still solid, still here, still taking up space in a world that’s often too distracted to notice properly. Your presence isn’t erased by someone else’s rush. Your voice doesn’t disappear because a room failed to listen the first time. And your worth doesn’t shrink just because someone didn’t look left or right.

Some days, being visible starts quietly — with choosing not to vanish, with holding your ground, with trusting that what you bring does land, even when it feels like it didn’t.

You’re not a ghost. You’re not background noise. You’re just living in a world that needs reminding to slow down and see the people in it — and you’re allowed to remind it, too.