Master Puppeteer

Lips curved upwards, a smile plastered on my face or rather, a smile painted onto my face. The edges are crumbling, the scene old, the words stuck on reply. “I’m fine”.

When did life become this lie? When did the days start to blur into each other? When was autopilot switched on?

I smile at you because I know that is what you want, what you expect. The world constantly poses us a question, the question “How are you?” How am I? It is a question out of politeness. People don’t really want to know the truth. You don’t really want to know the answer, nobody really does. Society asks out of a fading sense of decorum. You utter those words quickly, absentmindedly. I watch as they fall hollow to the ground. Hollow. That is how I am, but to you I am “fine”.

I am dressed in a costume, wearing a mask over my face, one that society wants to see. The world is my theatre. You don’t realise though, to you this is the real me. To me even the lines have begun to fade. Is this me? Sometimes I can let myself believe it is. When that happens, everything comes a little easier: The curl of the lips, easier to hold, quicker to come, the words a little more believable, a little less of a lie.

So long have I been hidden, that the paint has seeped into my skin, a permanent mask, and I don’t know if I will ever be able to wash it away, I don’t know if I want to. I am a master at deception, but is it really deception when the lie you live becomes truth, when fiction becomes reality and you can’t tell the difference anymore? You carry on talking to me, unaware that who you know as me is an act, an illusion. The other me has become so ingrained, that it comes naturally. I watch on as my puppet laughs, you are happy to have elicited such a response, I make my puppet dance, and oh what a show! I am a master puppeteer.

When there are days when there is a faint glimmer in my eyes, there are days when it seems as if I am carrying the world on my shoulders. The paint cracks, my lips are lead and it feels like my costume is coming apart at the seams. I am standing before you, smiling, laughing, listening, but on the inside I am drowning. I say “I’m Fine” and you believe me. I smile, and you think it’s real. On the outside that may be, but inside, inside I am being swept away. Spiralling down into the darkness, I breathe in the pain, the anger, the grief. I try and stay afloat, but am dragged down by the hurt, the hate, the helplessness. I’m being washed away by waves of despair, and it is ironic, you are standing right in front of me, but cannot help me because you don’t even know I need saving.

These lies bind me, the costume has become too tight, the mask suffocating. I have built my own prison and now lie dying while I continue smiling.

Lips curved upwards, an empty embrace, I wave good-bye and watch you walk away, a smile painted on my face. The paint is cracking, the colours are faded, the actions well-rehearsed. I shout for you to come back, but stay silent. I am losing my grip on the world I have built. My costume is slowly falling apart, the mask breaking. The lies are unravelling and so am I. One day it will all fall away, then, then you will see ME. Then, then it will be too late.