i think there are reasons i don’t want to get into this. you know what’s allowed. you certainly know what isn’t. the moment i actually cursed myself was when i finally wiped that childlike grin off of my horrid, wound-covered face.
“could we even see who we were?”
“i could,” i promised.
my resting face comes off as jaded, my smile jagged and unsettling. wear and tear resides where innocence once flourished. the natural spark amidst the deep brown of my soul’s two windows has faded. i am hollow-man. i am your “scream” villain. i am your emptiness on a mission to haunt you should you dare to look even a moment too long.
the discovery of a very old video clip brought the actuality of my evolution to my attention. i witnessed some old, visibly tortured self naively, and quite horrifically, giving a vocal rendition of a cheesy justin bieber song accompanied by a borrowed guitar. i crowed loudly in all of the wrong keys. i strummed like a baby bangs a high-chair, my arms covered in sores. i was positively shameless.
but my smile lit up the moment. my laughter was pure. and i knew nothing. i saw myself knowing nothing. i watch this clip now and this girl that’s supposed to be me knows absolutely nothing. and i yearn for her.
“could we even see who we were?” you’d ask again as the abrupt ending of the video left us in a strange silence.
i’d changed my mind.
“i don’t think we could see at all. maybe we were better for it.”
you’d grimace then. and i’d wish this all away.