Superboy and the Invisible Girl Lyrics - Next to Normal

Song Overview

Song Credits

• Album: Next to Normal (Original Broadway Cast Recording)
• Release Date: 2009-05-12
• Producers: Tom Kitt, Joel Moss, David Stone, Kurt Deutsch
• Writers: Tom Kitt & Brian Yorkey
• Genre: Broadway, Rock, Soundtrack
• Instruments: Violin, Cello, Guitar, Bass, Drums, Keyboards, Percussion
• Label: Ghostlight Records
• Featuring: Alice Ripley & Aaron Tveit
• Vocal Arranger: AnnMarie Milazzo
• Orchestration: Michael Starobin & Tom Kitt
• Conductor & Music Director: Charlie Alterman

Song Meaning and Annotations

This isn’t a ballad — it’s a primal scream wrapped in melody. "Superboy and the Invisible Girl" is Natalie Goodman’s heart laid bare, her declaration of sibling inferiority and emotional invisibility. As sung by Jennifer Damiano in Next to Normal, the piece transforms into a soaring confessional, equal parts yearning and fury.

“Superboy and the Invisible Girl,” performed by Jennifer Damiano and featuring Alice Ripley and Aaron Tveit, cuts right into Natalie’s deepest wound—she’s never really been seen. Living in the shadow of her brother Gabe, both before and after his death, has shaped her entire identity. Ironically, Gabe’s death didn’t remove his presence from the household. It amplified it. He became mythic, almost holy. He became “Superboy.”

To Natalie, Gabe is the embodiment of everything her parents wanted in a child. He’s idealized, immortalized, and unreachable, like Superman himself—a symbol of hope, strength, and perfection. And just like that, Natalie is left behind, labeled the “Invisible Girl.” Even in the song’s title, Gabe comes first. Always first.

Natalie builds Gabe up in her mind because it’s how she believes her parents see him. He’s the perfect son, the one who couldn’t disappoint them even if he tried. In contrast, she struggles just to be noticed. She calls Gabe “immortal,” not because he’s truly living, but because he’s been preserved in their memory as flawless, frozen in time. Meanwhile, Natalie is still here, still fighting for scraps of love and attention, still overlooked.

When she sings “Then there’s me,” it’s a small line that carries an enormous weight. She’s spent the entire verse describing Gabe in glowing, heroic terms, only to reduce herself to an afterthought. That phrase—quiet, resigned—says everything about how she sees her place in the family. It’s not even self-pitying. It’s just the truth as she knows it.

Flying, in this context, becomes a metaphor with layers. Natalie wants to rise above all this. She wants to fly out of Gabe’s shadow, out of her home, out of a life that constantly reminds her she’s second-best. Flying also represents freedom, and for Natalie, that freedom can only come from leaving. In “Everything Else,” she dreams of Yale not just for education, but for escape.

What makes Gabe’s presence even more painful is that he has powers she doesn’t. He appears and disappears in Diana’s mind whenever it suits him. He interacts with her, comforts her, torments her. Natalie doesn’t get to come and go—she’s stuck in reality, navigating the very real consequences of living with a mother who’s mentally ill and emotionally distant.

In a particularly ironic twist, Natalie imagines how perfect her powers of invisibility would be if they worked like Gabe’s. If only she could vanish, and he could return. Her reappearance would mean so little, while his would be cause for joy. It’s such a raw, honest thought, and it’s one of the song’s most heartbreaking moments.

There’s a line that works on several levels, comparing Gabe not just to Superman, but to a figure of spiritual reverence. He’s not only the “Superboy,” he’s been turned into a martyr, even a savior. Natalie is competing with someone who isn’t even real anymore—not in the way he’s remembered—and that pedestal he’s been placed on is impossibly high.

But Natalie pushes back. For a moment, she lifts her voice with conviction, declaring that Gabe is gone and she is here. It’s a powerful shift. She’s not asking anymore. She’s demanding. She wants her parents to acknowledge her, not as a replacement, not as a consolation, but as their daughter. Alive, present, and worthy.

Diana tries to reassure Natalie, telling her she’s loved and not forgotten. But it doesn’t land. Words aren’t enough anymore. Diana’s actions—her obsession with Gabe, her inability to see Natalie—speak louder. And when Diana later confesses in “Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling” that Natalie was conceived as a way to cope with Gabe’s death, it cements what Natalie already knew. She’s a symbol of grief. A Band-Aid, not a daughter.

That difference matters. Gabe was an accident. Natalie was planned, but not for who she was—only for what she could fix.

On stage, this heartbreak is underlined by blocking. As Diana sings to Natalie, Gabe stands behind her. It’s as if Diana is actually singing to him. Gabe watches Natalie’s pain and smiles, smug in the knowledge that he’ll always be the favorite. That even now, he holds more of Diana’s heart.

Diana’s illness robs her of her ability to fully love Natalie. That’s something she admits. But when she sings “I love you as much as I can,” Natalie doesn’t cry or rage. She just turns to the audience, empty. It’s not enough. It never was.

But then, something changes. Natalie stops talking about Gabe. She claims her space in the family, without comparison. She says, clearly, that she exists and that they need to see her before she disappears entirely. This is Natalie at her most powerful. No longer pleading. No longer silent.

Still, even in this moment of strength, Gabe steals something. He joins her melody, taking over the lead while she sings the harmony. It’s symbolic—he’s always leading, always louder. Even in her one song, he pushes her to the background.

But Natalie doesn’t stay there. In the last lines of the song, as she repeats “She’s not there,” she steps back into the spotlight. She reclaims the lead, singing over Gabe’s haunting echo. It’s subtle, but it’s everything.

Because she is there. And she refuses to be invisible anymore.

Superboy, the Martyr

From the opening lines:

"Superboy and the Invisible Girl / Son of Steel and Daughter of Air"

…Natalie mythologizes her brother Gabe, even as she mourns how he eclipses her. He’s Superman in death, an eternal golden boy. She, meanwhile, floats — ignored, transparent, asking to be seen rather than revered. It’s grief complicated by resentment, love tangled in the roots of neglect.

Visibility as Validation

In one devastating refrain, she pleads:

"Please look closely and find her before she fades away"

It’s the cry of every child who's been overlooked, outshone, or accidentally left behind in the emotional debris of a family’s trauma. Natalie’s invisibility isn’t just metaphorical — it’s the result of being emotionally out of focus in a house distorted by loss.

Musical Architecture of a Breakdown

Sonically, the song uses layered vocals and echoing harmonies to simulate her presence trying to rise above the noise of the past. Gabe joins her in the chorus — not to comfort, but to assert his spectral dominance. Even in her moment of protest, he’s there, larger than life, practically glowing in the spotlight.

Similar Songs

1. “Shadow” – Ashlee Simpson
   Though more pop than Broadway, it channels the same essence: the overlooked sibling crying out to be recognized. Both tracks trace the ache of playing second fiddle to a seemingly perfect sibling.
2. “I’m Not That Girl” – Wicked
   Another declaration of invisibility, this time romantic. Like Natalie, Elphaba sings from the edges — overlooked and misunderstood. The emotional DNA of the songs is strikingly similar.
3. “Out There” – The Hunchback of Notre Dame
   Both are songs of longing to be acknowledged — by family, by society, by fate. The desperation and quiet rage in both are amplified by their soaring vocal arrangements.

Questions and Answers

Why does Natalie feel invisible?

Because her parents, particularly her mother Diana, are emotionally consumed by the memory of her deceased brother Gabe. Natalie’s pain is neglected, making her feel unseen and unvalued.

Who is Superboy in the song?

Superboy is Natalie’s brother Gabe, who died in infancy. In her mind, and in the family's collective memory, he has become an idealized, flawless figure — a standard she can never meet.

What is the main theme of the song?

It centers on sibling rivalry, emotional neglect, and the impact of unresolved grief. The title itself sets up the dichotomy — one child remembered too much, the other remembered too little.

Why does Gabe sing with Natalie in the song?

His vocal presence symbolizes how he still dominates the family dynamic, even from beyond the grave. He is ever-present, interrupting her plea for recognition with his mythic legacy.

How does this song fit into the story of Next to Normal?

It reveals the deep rift between Natalie and her parents. While Diana battles visible mental illness, Natalie quietly drowns in neglect, and this song gives voice to that often silent suffering.