A Bleak Reality

The show every person puts on in a daily basis makes me nauseous. We live in a circus where the spectators are the performers. In this show there is no curtain call.

Back in the days where I would use a pair of shoes over and over until its soles fall off before buying a new one, life was as simple as it could get. How I miss the days when I had no issues with my weight. I could pig-out days on end without a second thought. Now, even the question of dinner is considered through stringent deliberation. Those were the days when I would wear anything I fancied and faced the world with dead malice.

I was once indifferent to the prejudices of this stern world, apathetic to the dictates of conventional society. I was happy. Today my innocence is long lost to the malicious world of insecurity, back-stabbing and dirty politics.

As a kid, I had a fairly typical life. I would draw pictures of my favorite TV show characters on materials like cartons or on my asthma prescription boxes. I would cut them out and these paper dolls had kept me company throughout grade school. It was a common sight to see me sitting on a table in front of my paper toys murmuring incoherently while I moved the figures around. In High school, when I grew too old for my trusty cut-outs, I would day-dream. I’d spend the rest of my days in reverie, traversing to far-off places or defeating the latest villain of my imaginings. As I grew older the ventures of my imagination became less and less frequent until it altogether stopped.

I was with a fast-set, in college, that I tried to keep up with; a crowd of partying, alcohol, pretensions, smoking and drugs. These are the circumstances in which you can say that good is relative and that differences in beliefs are what defines right and wrong.

Fine lines were blurred--that and my sense of self were hazed along with my sense of reason. I lost reason the first time I chose to lie to my parents. I lost my sense of self the moment I decided to feign interest in the songs of artists’ that have no depth at all. Since then, never was there a day that I could just put my guard down. I would always be on my toes, trying to please everyone -everyone even virtual strangers, people I don’t know --of which I’m sure I would never see again. I had to talk, walk, and look pleasing. I knew I was under the scrutiny of a wicked society. I was conscious in every stride I took, in every word I say, on clothes I wear, and in every single morsel I put in my mouth.

I grudgingly let go of the banalities of my childhood that I once treasured. No more stains. Severely manicured and tailored to perfection. I have parted with my slippers in exchange for torture in heels; I wear cosmetic masks everyday to hide the imperfections which is the sum total of my whole being; traipse in this word of lies disillusioned by the prospect of blinding with glitz the liar right next to me.