Let me tell you a story about a girl. This girl has a very special condition, one I like to call “Ghost Syndrome” and one day…

Okay who am I kidding, this is about me. I have Ghost Syndrome.

I suppose a bit of an explanation is in order. Ever since the dawn of time, or in this case, the 1990s, I have suffered from this embarrassing curse. To say the least, it has made my years in school quite difficult.

Once I was sitting in class, perfectly still, absolutely quiet, thinking about playing my little game, when out of nowhere an affluently jean-clad derriere was coming straight for my abdomen. Translation: I was about to become someone’s chair.

My thoughts went into hyper drive. “He’s not really going to sit on me; he’s probably just…stretching, yeah.” “There’s no way he didn’t see...never mind.” “Maybe he’ll notice me before his stinky fratty rear end makes contact with my…”

And at that moment, he sat.

I cannot begin to explain how incredibly odd the next few moments of my life were.

Fratty McJeanyPants: “Uhh ohh…sorry dude.” 

Me: “Mrrphhl wurrphhl.” 

Fratty McJeanyPants: “Bye.” 

Me: “Praise the Pope I can breathe again!”

Alas, by the time that little tidbit of acerbic witticism escaped my lips, the behind in question was already long gone.

Ghost Syndrome is my awkward name for those of us in the world who are completely unnoticeable to the human eye. I make up one miniscule portion of the wallpaper of life, and truthfully, I am perfectly content with that — until a few certain Ghost Syndrome-related side effects, like being sat on, come into play.

I have partaken in another invisible game all throughout my schooling years. No one else plays, or in truth, knows they are playing, but c’est la vie. (French makes me feel fancy, don’t judge.)

I kid not, I can raise my hand in a class and never be seen or called upon.

I will have my hand at full mast for a good five minutes and never be seen. At first it was frustrating, then amusing, now it’s downright hilarious.

Being a part of “the unseen,” as I like to call those of us afflicted, has its perks, such as this game, although I have no idea if anyone else plays. Welp (yes, welp is on purpose), if no one else plays then at least I am always winning, right? Right? Just call me Mr. Sheen. Booyah.

Dear Buddha, did I really just write booyah?

The moral of today’s story children: don’t sit on people, it is rude and then they will probably write a ranting column about you in the school paper.

Well my little pretties, at this I must leave you. I would love to hear about some of your Ghost Syndrome stories, it would make me feel better. Make Ana feel better! Yeah…okay…right. Tallyho!

Send your embarrassing stories of living “unseen” to life@dailyevergreen.com.