Bordering on slight melodrama, tread the fine line with me, as I dream of her. Switch between the 1st and 3rd person POVs as you see through my eyes, her eyes, ‘her’ eyes. Join me in my journey with overstated, vague, yeah ever so breathy heightened drama. Watch then, how we struggle to carve a niche for ourselves in the real world. Watch the sentence patterns, the serial constructions, the balanced pairs, the cumulative and periodic sentences all whirl around and turn and twist and transform into what I present to you.
[of those] Mornings that sing of death, mine is a veritable aria of doom and gloom. [taking] A quick, deep breath, the slightest crease on my brow, a wordless curse on my lips, I steel myself to face the outside world. Yet the moment I step out, I recoil in.
It preludes all things. Hazel, brown, black, the occasional blue; I fear their eyes most of all. They all stare at me.[:] Some curious, some amused, some vicious.. [-] All of them unfriendly. Exposed to them as I plough on daily, I die a little more inside each time. Not [yet] dead, but definitely dying. Some live because they are afraid to die, as others die because they are afraid to live. I consider it my inevitable, insurmountable, karmic bill – this grotesque fear I have of those around me, this unnatural, creeping dread that human contact brings.
Gape then, you curiousity-seekers who somehow always materialise to gape open-mouthed at the misery of others. Ostracize him[her] as he[she] speaks different, lynch him[her] since he[she] walks different, crucify him[her] because he[she] thinks different. A little change, a little shift in paradigm, and you use the very words you now so vociferously condemn – crazy, freak, psychotic, nuts.
My Faustian fiction, my duplicity, my pact with my inner demons. Dark-ringed eyes and smears of red on a perfect white background gaze out at me from the dark. My fingers lightly brush it, I reach out my hand to take it – and put on my mask. Without a final backward glance, my face firmly in place, I step out and join the onrush of people, trying, and failing, yet again, to integrate myself.
This too shall pass.