Sugar on Chapped Lips

I got used to being invisible. Mimicry, guaranteeing my safety. Invisible at home – protection from beatings; invisible at university – no one pries into my soul. From the position of an invisible person, it is convenient to observe others, brighter peers. It's funny to see how they believe in a prince on a white horse. The only correction: modern princes have long switched from horses to expensive cars, and now they are called rich kids. I was invisible to everyone. Especially to the rich kids. Until one of them, by a fatal accident, noticed me, making me visible to all. Stripping me of the only protection I had, he forced me to expose myself not only to him but also to myself. It turns out, I also believed in beautiful princes…