Have you any idea what it’s like to be invisible? Not in the sense you're ignored or unnoticed - I mean your body is 100% transparent. Well I know how that feels. I haven't always been like this, like the other students I’d once owned a marvellous warm fleshy body but I guess I lost myself in all the hype of secondary school and wanting to change myself for acceptance. My deepest desire was to be seen, to have a reason to exist. Not to just live passively with unfulfillment burning in my chest. But how was I to even begin to discover myself? Surely my father would know! I drifted silently into his study - He was a short, square shaped man and was bent perplexed over a sheet of numbers, “Father, how is it that you are you?” I pleaded. He turned tiredly from his work searching the empty room for my shadow. “Well Isabella, I have desires, likes and dislikes it’s my own opinions and values which shape the person I am.” “But How did you get those things?” “Izzy, they're not something you ‘get’ they're things you must discover for yourself” he droned turning unfazed back to his numbers. Knowing he was busy I left him to his accounting and went to my room. Like me, my room was inconsequential in the grand scheme of our house. It was plain – white walls, white curtains, white bedspread – No colours – Nothing special. Maybe if I was to change that, make my room a shrine to what I desired maybe I’d discover myself. I dragged a purple paint tin from the shed – peeled off the lid and submerged my hand into the viscous paint. Marvelling at my now purple shapely fingers. I then pressed my dripping hand to the wall – leaving a perfect impression of my palm and fingers.  I was filled with an overwhelming urge to see what the rest of my body looked like - I had not seen it in so long. In no time at all my walls were graffiti with purple bodies. I collapsed exhausted in the middle of my floor, laid back and admir