The faces I wear outside differ from those I wear in my house. My friends see a different smile than my parents. They would both be shocked to see what face I have when I’m at work. Some faces mask the other’s tears and cover them with smiles—the realization of different faces was at 12 years old. Sometimes, the faces would slip off as a teen, causing screams that would make the walls quiver in my house. People’s words would cut that face if it slightly slipped off in school until nothing was left.
The hands that put on a new face have cuts and bruises, trying to hide the fear in my eyes and only showing the soulless eyes allowed for a man. As an adult, the faces are stitched on so tight that if they are removed, blood will flow like a river.
Will anyone see my actual face? Do I know what it looks like? I imagine it has smile lines from a time I don’t remember. I would like to see the wonder in his eyes, which now has nothing but the lost souls he has met. Was he as free as a gust of wind? Was his smile free from the strings that now pull at it? I don’t know what I was like as a kid. Did I yelp like the roaring seas when I first changed my face? Was it for a friend or family member? If I went back, I would try to stop it and let him be himself. I would love to see that.
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