Absentia

By Michael F. Mercurio

 

It is very difficult for someone like me to accomplish things.  So often do people accuse me of being lazy, and claim that I will never amount to anything in life.  It’s not my fault though, really.  I can’t help the condition I have.  It was something I was born with.

Less than five percent of the total population has been diagnosed with it.  I was one of the “lucky” ones, I suppose. 

They call the syndrome “Absentia.”  In a nut shell, I only exist while someone is looking at me.  If no one is in the room, I’m simply not there anymore.  It’s a very odd ailment, that many people aren’t even familiar with.  It’s difficult to explain to anyone who isn’t educated on the matter, since I have no real way to prove it to anyone.  The closest analogy to this dilemma would be the old “light in the glove box” question.  They have no real reason to believe me, since they are incapable of perceiving the condition for themselves.  For all they know, I’m completely making it up.  They just assume that I crave attention.

However, I am indeed afflicted with Absentia.  You can imagine how difficult it must be for me to get anything done, really.  Anytime someone turns their head from me, I turn to nothingness.  It’s very hard for me to make something of myself when two thirds of my life isn’t actually taking place.

You would think there would be ways of managing it, at least.  I’ve tried methods such as painting and writing, so that something of myself would remain behind while I’m gone.  Alas, the condition doesn’t allow for it.  Even the words on the page disappear once everyone looks away.  It’s quite aggravating how I am unable to leave even a simple message behind.

It took me years to cope with this affliction, but I think I finally have a way – however small.

I’ve found that I can influence people’s lives simply by helping them in any manner I can.  It’s such a cliché concept, really.  But in a minute way, I’m able to exist through others whenever I’ve somehow made them happy.  It’s subtle, and often thankless, but it’s enough for me to be able to leave some sort of mark – some evidence that I actually existed at that point in time.

Since discovering this, I’ve often looked back on my old writings and paintings – for when I look at them myself, they are at least still corporeal.  But when I compared my works to the lives around me, and the happiness that I was somehow able to find for others – I realized that people were a much larger canvas than I could have ever hoped to leave my mark upon.  Their joy was a more expressive painting – their smiles a more captivating novel.

As long as people are able to find happiness, that – apparently - gives my life meaning now.  And if they’re happy, I guess I’m happy too.

Even if they still think I’m lazy and not doing anything with my life.


Michael F. Mercurio
Copyright 2013