PLIGHT OF THE INVISIBLE. I never wanted to be me. I always wanted to be another. This is a curious thing when you stop to consider that you have no perspective but your own from which to judge. I spent my childhood in fantasy, dreaming that I was the long lost sibling of the Brady Bunch or the brother that Will Robinson never had as he was lost in space. I would observe the other children, watching the way that they talked, their speech patterns, their walk and the rhythm of their laughter. I longed for the comfort, security and natural power that they seemed to hold so unconsciously. I resented them for their ignorance and vowed that I would always be more intelligent. I would always remain three steps ahead and seemingly unaware. I was on the outside, looking in. As long as I didn't allow both feet to cross the threshold of "their world," I would be safe. I learned to travel unnoticed, invisible, or so it seemed and silently chastised the world for my success. As I enter my 40's, I yearn to be seen for all that I am and for the difficulty of the journey (even though I have made it impossible for others to understand). I want to be loved in my imperfection and consumed in an acceptance that I can only give my self. The road to my present has been paved with many lessons--the greatest of which is to "be careful what you ask for, because you will surely receive it."