Hitting my legs hard on the stairs, I climbed up to my room, I knew I had to vent out, bring that boy outside. Hurriedly opened the door, with trembling hands closed it back, and threw the bag on the floor. Slowly reached for my bed and with emotions bursting out any second, I sat on it with palms covering my face and tried to calm myself up, taking deep breaths, but that didn’t help.
I had to let the kid breathe, let him come out and allow him to talk. Trembling I reached out to my face, tried to pull out that mask now awfully stuck on my face! This kid had to breathe!! Stuck my fingers between the layer of mask and my face and tried to pull it out. Mask had become thin, as if it had bonded with my face in this much time! Slowly and carefully I tried it pull it away from me, the mask seemed so real, material and texture just as a human skin, with a character just as a normal human being! A nice one actually, with a joyous face, always looking for fun, was rude but loving, always eager and energetic! But it didn’t had that authenticity and only I knew that, everyone loved my mask, but only because it wasn’t the truth, it was result of something that wasn’t good to look at, result of a past.
By then, I had almost removed the mask, my face had started to show itself, the kid was eager to speak. With one last pull, I took off the mask. The kid didn’t wait, he burst out crying, cried his whole heart out. He looked at himself, in the mirror he could see nature’s beauty, a young face, all covered with scars and burns. His trembling fingers went up and felt them, yes! they were real, outcome of real pain, strife and love. He was ugly to look at, for sure, but I tell you, he was a beauty, absolute beauty, nature’s own flagship, broken yet together, hurt yet loving, lied to yet knew the truth, dying yet held healing powers, he was a beauty. Something everyone needed to see, feel, learn and love. Pushing all his weight through his hand on the sink, and shoulders up, the perfect ‘I’m gonna cry’ posture, and cry he did, wept his soul out, and for no reason at all. None. People generally don’t get it, crying isn’t bad or unhealthy or ‘for the weak’, well, it’s for those people who know that good isn’t near, it’s far in the heavens, yet they had to live, and to regain the strength to go on they had to empty the bowl first, so cry he did, not to feel sorry, but to regain his strength, so that next day when he is out wearing that same mask again, facing people, he can be sorry yet not burst out then and there.
He gave out a sigh, and looked down into the ceramic. He was beautiful, but the outside wasn’t ready to accept him, they will freak out, condemn him as a freak. He was a soul of a small kid locked inside the body of a full grown adult, forced to face people yet keep mum about their ugliness. The world needed to see him, but they weren’t ready, and never they will be.
With a deep breath, he slowly picked up that stinking mask, and slowly took it nearer to his face. Slowly whispering to himself, Time is up kiddo, time for the ever happy face to come back.