I am not from a place where people venture to become noticed.

I am from a place where people get trapped like a mouse striving to be noticed, stuck in its claws.

From a town, people seldom know.

Forgotten and overlooked.

I am not from a town where people have their lives figured out.

I am from the time my mother came home crying after being re-diagnosed, with a single sentence, stealing the spotlight from the person hurting.

Forgotten and overlooked.

I am not from a family without confrontation.

I am from silent tears trickling down my face as I drive. I will never reach the bar set for me, permanently in the shadows of my perfect older brother who figured his life out.  

Forgotten and overlooked.

I am not from childhood friendships lasting.

I am from trusting those close to me, voicelessly told they don't want me. Strung along like a piece of trash headed to the compost, like a dryer sheet forgotten in a shirt.

Forgotten and overlooked.

I am not from the time my “friends” silently mocked me for making the A team.

I am from night training to improve at what I love.  From forcing my body to its breaking point, then driving it farther, praying my coaches will recognize my improvement.  

Forgotten and overlooked.