In this big world of ours everyone has their own role to play. Some are the heroic main characters or part of their posse, some are final bosses, some are annoying minor antagonists, and some are cool mysterious loners with a higher purpose to save the world or something valiant like that. Unfortunately, I'm the anomaly that by mistake or by design didn't get an assigned role. Not even as a dumb ugly henchman.

I think I was seven when I discovered something wasn't quite right with me. I remember feeling lost in the crowd of laughing children on my first day of school. They were all so lively and cheerful, impatient to play and show off their toys. I was very excited to make new friends before I realized that, for some reason, none of them could see me. Or more like none of them noticed that I even existed.

I remember waving my hand in front of my eyes a couple of times to make sure that I hadn't turned invisible. However, that wasn't the case.

At some point, I approached the teacher and asked her where I should sit. She looked at me, seemingly confused. A couple of seconds later, something had finally clicked inside her head, and she directed me towards a seat in the second row next to the window. In the end, I was the only one who had no deskmate. Not because the kids actively avoided me or specifically didn't want to sit next to me. It was as if they just couldn't see the empty seat as long as I was nearby.

With every following year, it got slightly worse as I grew wearier. I had to reintroduce myself to my classmates during every interaction I tried to have with them. I had to remind my teacher what my name was almost daily. Even wearing a big name shield didn't help.

At first, I frantically tried every single method I could think of to make friends. But even when I had some success, the slate was wiped clean the very next day, and I had to start from scratch.

Finally, I focused all my efforts on the teacher. Graduating depended on her remembering me. The others mattered less.

My attitude changed slightly when during the sixth grade, in one of the coldest winter months, we got a new transfer student. I was excited about it since I knew that the only empty seat was right next to me. Having a new classmate meant having a guaranteed deskmate.

"This is Brian. He recently moved to our city together with his mother. Please be nice to him, kids, and help him feel welcome in our classroom," Mrs. Greene, our homeroom teacher, introduced the scrawny little boy in a worn-out sweater.

"Hello, Brian," the children sheepishly greeted the new boy with no particular enthusiasm. My voice, however, was way too excited and stood out in the choir. But as was usually the case, nobody noticed.

"Now, where should you sit, Brian?" Perplexed, Mrs. Greene contemplated out loud.

My heart raced, threatening to burst from my throat.

"How about you take my desk during the first period, and then after the lunch break, I'll arrange a new place for you?" the teacher sighed, vaguely annoyed.

I raised my hand. Of course, I did. It felt like my only chance.

As expected, she didn't notice me, so I shouted out: "Mrs.Greene!" My voice was however drowned out by somebody sneezing at the very same time.

But I wasn't about to admit defeat.

I got up from my seat and called out for the teacher once again.

At that exact moment, Mrs.Greene turned her back to the class and started writing something on the blackboard.

So I walked up to her.

Back then, I still didn't know what exactly was wrong with me, but I had already figured out that the rules for me were a bit different than they were for the others. If I wanted attention, I had to do something that really couldn't be ignored. Shouting at the top of my lungs helped at times, but often my voice would be swallowed by a random siren or some other noise. Physically blocking people's paths was the most effective method, though not foolproof. Still, it proved more reliable than anything else.

It took Mrs.Greene a good five minutes to finally notice me standing right next to her.

"Uh...Co...Colin," she muttered. "Why did you get up in the middle of the class?"

"Mrs.Greene, there's an empty seat next to me. The new student could…"

I was interrupted by somebody dropping their bag on the floor.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?"

I had to desperately repeat myself another three times until Mrs.Greene finally understood what I was trying to convey to her.

Being me is hard work, as you can see.

"Oh...right," she frowned. "Brian, you can sit next to Colin."

I couldn't help but smile. In my mind, I finally got a fair chance to make a real friend.

I was impatiently waiting for the period to be over, so I could start a conversation with the new boy. I carefully considered asking him about the city he used to live in before, about his favorite subjects in school, about his family... The questions had to be open-ended, so he couldn't just say 'yes' or 'no' and then walk away.

I've had a lot of experience starting conversations at that age already. How could I not? My entire survival depended on me making my own parents notice me. It was a difficult task for a kid.

At this point, there were no more intact vases left in our house. Because I would break one every time I felt like my existence started slipping away from my mother's memory yet again.

Breaking stuff made my mother angry, so she would scold me. It felt good being scolded - in those moments, she would look at me directly, not through me, as she normally did.

Alas, this strategy stopped working after some time. Not just because we ran out of vases but also because my mother grew 'immune' to this trick. The last time I smashed a vase right in front of her face in the kitchen, she looked at it with some confusion and muttered to herself: "Must have been the cat…"

We never had a cat. There was never any cat.

Yet, once she said that, a British short-hair walked into the kitchen as if he had been living in our house all along.

It was clear to me right then and there that breaking stuff was not going to cut it anymore.

So I started blocking my mother's path whenever I needed something and asked her questions. Many, many, many useless questions until her tired eyes finally focused on me for at least a second.

I needed to do the same to the new boy quickly. An empty desk could appear anytime, spelling 'game over' for me.

"Can you show me around the school?" Brian asked right after math class before I even managed to open my mouth.

"Are...are you asking me?" I looked around just to be sure.

"Should I ask someone else?" The new boy raised his eyebrow.

"No...no need. I know the school grounds very well! I'll show you all the best places!" I was so excited that my hands trembled. The little twelve-year-old me still believed that I could break whatever evil curse was making my life so difficult. I just needed one person, only one person, to properly acknowledge my existence. And then, the curse would be lifted. Naive, I know. But hey, I was only a kid back then. Don't judge me.

I showed Brian the cantine, the library, the recess hall, the football field, and all the secret nooks that nobody apart from me had access to. I even took him to the roof. Students were forbidden to go up there without supervision, and anybody else but me would have been spotted climbing the ladder and reprimanded on the spot. But, as you already know, I had a special power. This 'being practically invisible' was mostly a nuisance. But it did come with some perks.

Brian obediently followed me, sometimes even asking questions on his own accord. I replied as detailed as I could. During most of our conversation, I was out of breath since I couldn't control my excitement and agitation.

"Why are you sweating so much?" Brian asked. "It's so cold here."

I wiped my forehead and smiled. "My jacket is too warm. And scratchy."

"Mhm."

"Do you like it here?" I asked, looking right into Brian's eyes. They were unusually blue.

"Mhm."

"Which place did you like best?"

I was like a dog with a bone.

"This one right here, I guess."

"I also like the roof! We can come here together whenever you want. You just can't come alone."

"Why not?"

I paused since I didn't know how to put the actual reason into words. Even as a child, I felt this was not something I could talk about to others.

"It's boring if you come alone," I finally answered.

"Mhm."

We returned to the classroom, and to my great delight, there was no new desk arranged for Brian, and he continued to sit next to me for the rest of the day.

After school, I wanted to ask him if somebody was picking him up or if he was taking the bus, but I didn't manage to say anything, as some other classmate suddenly dragged him away.

I sighed. It was in line with my expectations, after all. That day, I felt that I had already received more than what was usually granted to me. So I didn't mind so much.

Besides, I had more pressing concerns. My stomach rumbled, and I had to figure out a way to hold out until my father came home. Only then would my mother go shopping and cook.

There was just some milk in the fridge this morning, and I used up the rest of the cereal for breakfast, so I couldn't just grab something at random as I usually did. This kind of situation didn't happen very often but once in a while, I had to go a day or two without proper food. Much later, I figured out the ridiculous reason for that. But as a child, I didn't give it too much thought. Things were the way they were. It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't the end of the world.

I already knew what to do - if I walked up and down the shopping street a couple of times, the chances were high that I would find some loose change lying around. If I was very lucky, I could collect just enough to get myself a small chocolate chip cookie. They usually didn't sell them separately, but sometimes a kind lady working at the counter would say that she was making an exception for me this one time. But since she would completely forget about my existence as soon as I walked out of the shop, I could rely on her making exceptions for me over and over again. As I told you already, this condition of mine came with certain privileges. One just had to know how to use them.

The next day, when I came back to school, I discovered Brian sitting at a brand new desk which was placed as far away from mine as possible. Angry, I threw my bag onto the chair and sat down thinking that I would gladly exchange a lifetime supply of chocolate chip cookies for a friend or at least for an acquaintance who would manage to remember that I exist.

After the third period, I was just about to dig into a dry piece of bread I had brought as my lunch, when to my great surprise I saw Brian standing right next to my chair. For some reason, he was frowning.

"Isn't this where I sit?" He asked out of nowhere, sounding somewhat sleepy and confused.

I paused, not sure what to tell him. So finally, I just shrugged.

"Somebody else sat here yesterday, right?" Brian asked, giving me a suspicious look.

"No, it was me," I saw no reason to lie.

"You... I don't quite remember you. Or... I do. Do I?" Now Brian looked slightly panicked. I even felt sorry for him. But he was the first one I've met at that point in my life who tried to verbalize his confusion about his semi-altered reality. As a kid, I, of course, didn't think in such terms, but instinctively I still felt that something about Brian's behavior was different from the others. So I responded truthfully again.

"We went to the roof together yesterday. Do you remember that?"

Brian scratched his head: "Mhm… I remember going to the roof. But I'm not sure you were the one who was supposed to bring me there."

"Should we go again?" I asked, slightly excited. In my head, an idea was already forming - if I kept taking Brian to cool places every day, then there was a real chance that he would stop forgetting me.

"Mhm," he nodded.

We climbed up the little ladder to the top of the school building, and, just like yesterday, no one stopped us. The weather was mild that day. Even now, I still remember the warm wind blowing through my hair back then. I smiled at Brian, who looked completely expressionless. Yet for some weird reason, nobody had ever felt as real or as alive to me as he did. I even noticed that when I looked at him, something inside me started to vibrate. As a child, I thought that this was what happiness felt like.

"It's nice here, isn't it?" I asked.

"Mhm," Brian walked towards the ledge and looked down.

"Careful, you'll fall," I warned. Brian nodded and took a step back.

After school was over, I managed to ask Brian if he was taking the bus. He shook his head and said he had to stay in school for a bit longer. I happily waved at him, already thinking about the many tomorrows to come. I was a twelve-year-old full of hope, a twelve-year-old who for the first time in his life had a real shot of making a real connection to another human.

I imagined taking Brian to the local toy shop and showing him the shiny red truck they always had on display. I was sure he was going to find it just as fascinating as I did. I even thought about showing him the little woods behind my house where I was looking for treasure. I hadn't found anything apart from some coins so far, but I was sure that the coins were pointing me in the right direction. Once I found the treasure, my parents and other people around wouldn't be able to ignore me anymore, and a completely new life would start for me. With Brian's arrival at our school, I felt that my luck had begun to change.

The next day, I came to school way too early and had to hang out in the classroom for over half an hour before Brian finally arrived. I couldn't help jumping up to my feet.

"Do you remember me?" I asked a bit awkwardly.

To my surprise, Brian nodded.

"Can you take me to the roof again?" He asked all of a sudden.

I rejoiced in my heart. Not only hadn't he forgotten me, but he also wanted to hang out. He was indeed special.

"Sure, let's go after class."

"No, right now."

"But... Mrs.Greene is going to be here any minute now...."

I didn't want to skip class. Not because I was such a nerd but mostly because I was a little nervous that the teacher might completely forget about my existence, and my name might disappear from the class register if I didn't show up for even one day. You might think I was a bit too paranoid for a twelve-year-old, but I had already made an unpleasant experience before.

Right after I started middle school, in an attempt to expand my nonexistent social circle, I joined a basketball club. Despite being mostly ignored by other players, I ended up enjoying the practice.

One day, I had to skip the training because my bus broke down in the middle of the road. It was a whole thing. But the next time I showed up in the gym, everybody, including the coach, acted as if they'd never seen me before in their lives. And even my mother couldn't remember anything about me being a part of the basketball team.

And that was that. No more basketball for me. You bet I was going to be a tiny bit paranoid about attendance.

"Let's go," Brian made use of my confusion and dragged me out of the classroom and towards the ladder.

I was still apprehensive.

"I...I need to go back to class. If you want to go now, just go by yourself. I won't tattle on you or anything... I'll come after the first period, I promise."

Brian shook his head.

"You have to come with me. I can't go alone."

It would be a lie to say that these words didn't touch my little heart. Somebody needed me, somebody actively wanted me to accompany them.

I sighed and started climbing up.

"Do you want to show me something?" I asked once we both were on the rooftop.

Brian nodded. Before I managed to ask any further, he suddenly dashed towards the edge and jumped.