Life, misfortunes, isolation, abandonment, poverty, are battlefields which have their heroes; obscure heroes, sometimes, greater than the illustrious heroes.--Victor Hugo (Les Miserables)

I may come across as a totally insensitive, selfish, attention-hungry, blood-sucking vampire to many or all of you. It is only because I am one.

When I was young boy, my mama used to tell me, “Always remember this, son, it is the crying baby that gets the milk!” I have remembered that well. And milk is something I cannot do without. So I cry. As much and as loudly as I can. Which brings us to the point of this little post of mine.

I was not like this before.

I was like you. Dignified, quiet, and hardworking. Committed to myself and my brethren's welfare. I believed 'to earn one's daily bread by the sweat on one's brow' was the right thing to do. I toiled without complaints, believed in the kindness of my brothers and sisters, and waited for the good to come knocking on my door.

Day after day, night after night, I waited. Just like you do. But nothing happened. The world moved on. Without as much as a 'thank you.' If it was a good night's sleep that was to be my only blessing, that didn't come through either. The tin roofs over my head leaked in the rains, and in the summers, were too hot to sleep under. If my body was betrayed, my soul didn't feel too blessed either.

I was invisible to the world then. As you are today. To be silent was to be ignored, sidelined, walked-over, mistreated, and forgotten. To be silent was to cease existing. To be silent was to accept the ignominy of being considered being dead while still living.

That is when I realised my mama was right. And I decided never to be silent again. Now I cry. And I get fed. More than my fair share. Everything is wonderful in my world now. But then I see you. I see you do exactly what I used to do once upon a time. Believe in the kindness of your brothers and sisters. Toil till the sun goes down and wonder why nobody invites you home when you have to sleep under your leaking tin roof. Maybe your mama didn't tell you the secret that mine did. You got to cry if you need milk.

So cry.

This world is as much your's as it is mine. Do not let any one tell you otherwise. You have toiled for the whole year here and what have you got to show for it? Nothing? The hours at the keyboard, pouring out your heart and mind... the hours spent on other bloggers space trying to understand, the commitment, the sincerity, the earnest comments you left behind, and at the end of it all...

Inhale deeply, fill your lungs with as much ammunition as you can, and cry. Let the world see what you have got. Don't wait for other's kindness or pity. Pry it out of the miserly-fists that deny you your rights.

What is your's by right is not to be accepted as alms. It is not for someone to hand it over. It is your's to take. There's pride in that conquest. Do not hesitate. Do not wait. Come forward and say, “This is me. And this is mine.”

Even if it is a mention as a 'Blogging Individual' in the year that is about to pass us by. Forever.

I salute you, my invisible friends. Let's not remain invisible anymore. For history is not made of silence.