Usually my days don't start out this well. I'm often forgotten or somehow just not seen, but I can't blame everyone; it's hard to be noticed when you're… me, I guess. I stopped being surprised at my lack of existence or even importance years ago.

My life was never a disaster and it was never amazing. Focus always (and I mean always) fell on Alfred. I've known growing up he was the favorite and nothing my parents said could convince me otherwise. I once told Alfred, when we were much younger, that I knew he was their favorite. I don't know why I told him, nothing provoked me other than a typical bad day. Most days are bad days.

They tried to tell me I was wrong and they loved us both equally, but they soon forgot about that when our birthdays came up and Alfred got everything he wanted and I got… I got a bike. A hand-me-down from my dad, all torn up and with a delated tire. Alfred got new gaming systems and a TV since his old box one didn't have the right output connection for his video games.

And I got something they dug out of the shed.

I know they try, and I imagine it's difficult to treat both sons equally when there was such a strong divide between them. There was strong, athletic, enthusiastic Alfred and then there was me; small, timid, next-to-friendless Matthew. And though it was never said, I had to agree that he was better than me.

I don't know when the feelings began but I know when they ended: which was today, in fact. I began attending a university a few months ago and it was my first experience on my own and without my parents or brother. Alfred was two years older than me and already in college, though he chose to stay close to home and commuted to another school. I figured I would move out and away, away from the home that was so sickly innocent and held my misguided feelings and confused resentment.

I needed out of that house like I needed air to breathe. Without me it wouldn't change—it'd smell less like pancakes, at most. Sometimes I wonder if they miss me or if they even notice I'm gone. I wasn't needed before, wasn't even seen, so why start now?

I began my new life a few cities over in a nice university. It was so big that I felt even more invisible—which was oddly comforting. If I was invisible at such a big place then I surely wasn't alone. Everyone was invisible here, and that made us noticeable.

My deep-rooted anxiety was actually withering away with each class I attended and with each busy street I crossed. I was just another eighteen-year-old college kid now and it felt so good to be in a sea of the same beings for once. I even had a few people talk to me in class when they saw my messenger bag, bearing a giant red leaf from the Canadian flag. I didn't know just talking to people could be this easy after so many years of hiding in school and avoiding the pain of being mocked or entirely ignored.

University life was so much different and wonderful and unexpected! If I didn't like a class, it changed the next semester. If I met someone I liked, I'd see them around campus again. Things were looking up and becoming so bright and beautiful. The anxiety faded and faded and I soon found myself drinking at a small party, smiling like an idiot because I wasn't afraid anymore. Call it the alcohol talking but I was so sure of everything good in life and I found that, after the party, it didn't cease. I stayed happy and confident and vocal.

No one here knew Alfred or who I was before, which I must credit to my success in finally gaining the opaque coloring of interest. There were no casual conversations ending in a disappointing, "you're so funny, Al!" or "Thanks, Matt, but I really want to talk to your brother now."

I was doing well in class, I was making my first real friends, and I was feeling good about myself for the first time since I was too little to comprehend the injustice of having Alfred to overshadow me.

And so it was Tuesday, which held my favorite round of classes. The sun was out but not too bright, the sky was clear and so blue it was unreal; even the air was perfect and just breezy enough to feel like hands gently tousling my hair as I strode by the shady trees and to the crosswalk.

There was no way today could possibly get better.

The crosswalk light lit up and an obnoxious recorded voice chanted from the top of the pole, "CROSSWALK FOURTH STREET." I hummed to myself and adjusted my bag's strap on my shoulder before I took a step out with the rushing crowd of fellow students.

"Mattie!" I heard call out from behind me. I turned around, spotting a pretty redheaded girl from my math class waving to me from the sidewalk. I must admit, I had a small crush on her. Maybe it was because she was so nice, maybe it was because she saw me and remembered my name… But I was, undoubtedly, irrevocably, and most certainly infatuated with her. She smelled like strawberries and her chest was like a constellation of freckles against that pale skin.

I rose my hand to wave back when I saw a sudden look of a mixture of emotions bloom over her gentle face. She opened her mouth to say something else to me, though I never heard it.

I also never saw that taxi.

In an instant her face was gone, her body was gone, everything was just gone. There was a numb explosion in my side and my body suddenly was horizontal against the world. The world was an eruption of pain and confusion once more before I became invisible again, though this time I was invisible to myself.

I faded, faded, faded away for the final time.