That Dark Horizon

I look up,

I look around,

I see that dark horizon.

I look up,

I look around,

And I see me.

 

I see how the day begins, how I wake up with one face and end with ten how I have an inside and an outside and don’t know how to mix them. Just like the stars ache for that dark night, I ache for a cover of darkness to cover me like a blanket, something that won’t slip and occasionally forget to cover my feet as well.

 

The faded glow from all the powder and pretension, revealing itself as cracks on my skin. These colours remain and refuse to let go, so I keep on concealing, concealing, concealing: a hint of cologne to mask the indecent smell of my insecurities, a small dab of pomade to slick back my disordered self, a final look in the mirror – a face not familiar.

 

We are given one face but paint ourselves another.

 

Like a painter who paints our portraits perfectly, they see a glimpse of our insides. An overwhelming fear builds up: what if they have seen too much, what if they know too much. My desire to vanish so strong in this moment, my desire to remain so weak. The way I show myself is not what it seems and sometimes I like this ambiguity, and sometimes it just hurts me. All who I trust, all who trust me – shoot past the horizon, never again to be seen. 

 

We are given one face but paint ourselves another.

 

Smiles are not just smiles. They carry the weight of so much more: pretension, posing, pain. Look beyond that crooked smile, and you’ll see how I’m a double sided coin with one face completely removed; that side is only for me to admire and not for the world to corrupt. So, when I flip that coin, my odds seem pretty strong –  I made my own luck.

 

Now, because of it, I stand on the shore – I stand alone. My loved ones turning into strangers and so am I.

 

We are given one face but paint ourselves another.

 

I see that dark horizon:

I look up,

I look around,

And I see me.

 

 

 

 

 

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