Ah the glorious façade that comes to the rescue of us shattered mortals for as many times as needed. Soon enough, the façade will transform and blend into the shattered one's face. But that is all it is – a face. It is not feelings. Ay there is the rub!
I’m not a happy kid. Neither am I an Emo scene kid. I’m generally not a happy person. I believe that happiness is for the elite and that happiness is a supernatural entity that flits around the universe bestowing itself upon the asking, willing and sometimes unwilling. Ah, but there are times when one, like I, have been willing and almost at the point of begging for happiness to come and grant just one honest smile. Yet through this a smile is left on my face and the disappointment in my heart because of the knowledge that the smile is in fact a façade. Yes, I do fake it! But there are times when I do smile in earnest, those are the moments I hold dearest to my heart. Those smiles and those moments when happiness does grant me a moment of its time come when I am with my siblings and my cousins. Those times I treasure so dearly and hope to God they don’t end. When they do I resort back to a straight face, a frown or a fake smile. I do not know which is worse, a counterfeit smile or just a truthful look of gloom. Those who do know me, those who are lucky ( if that is the right word or maybe burdened is) to be let into (only briefly) into the heart of Jamaine Chiwaye have said that it is rather I keep a straight face or frown because my fake smile looks painful. Wow, the truth hurts huh?
The reason I am unhappy is not one I have actually been able to fathom: Perhaps its glorious teenage angst rearing its ugly head. Maybe it is part of the deal of writing poetry. The better the poems get, the worse you. I do know that a great deal of the unhappiness is of my own orchestrating. I create, I plan and I orchestrate. I meticulously set out the unknown to end up as the inevitable. I ensure people hear only what they want to and what I want them to. However, the worst thing I do is I create or rather fantasise about perfect worlds or perfect occurrences only to be disappointed by realism. I am the one who did say that the illusion of perfection is always shattered by the truth of reality. Yet still again I create a world where she is there, I am with her and I am happy. She is now a figment of my imagination yet she isn’t. She is real but unattainable. Others think because I did show interest they may be her, but time and again I lay awake wondering how it is I can find a replacement for the one. It is not my fault she laid a standard and continuously does that many keep falling short from. This ranking goes so far to the point that the two girls whom I thought I liked at present and whom I thought I could fall in love with paled so far in comparison to her that I stopped feeling for them entirely. In a second the love has vanished and is replaced by a longing for the unattainable. The one chance in a years that I get the chance to feel for someone in that way and it is quashed by a memory – a pleasant memory at that…
But c’est la vie. I can not whine forever. I can be an Emo kid in the way that I wear my heart on my sleeve. Yet I only allow a certain unlucky few to see my heart and I am forever grateful that they care. So where to from now? I will walk outside, see someone I know and smile. They don’t know that it is a façade and that is the way I prefer it. Nobody like a sad face – including myself.