Broken Mirrors

Cold, white, plastic. Rosy cheeks, a painted smile on the lips, two holes for the eyes. The mask lay on the bed. He eyed it cautiously, not wanting to make prolonged eye contact with the endless darkness in its eyes, but he knew would have to face the music. What if he didn't wear it this time? Unthinkable at first. He had worn it for so long he had forgotten would it was like to be bare-faced in public. But the more he thought about it, the more it became a possibility. A small seed of hope grew into a monster that he could not shake.

Could he do it? Was he willing to step outside and face the mob without protection? Was he really  ready to brave the harsh world outside with the angry scars that distorted his face?

Scars.

It hurt to think about it. The burn marks on his face still hurt, after all these years. He reached up to touch his face and then thought better of it. He knew what they looked like. He had tried to forget many times. The mirror that used to hang on the wall now lay smashed and shattered on the floor for a reason.

School.
Crowded halls, noisy, public, exposed. Surrounded and alone. The cold plastic chaffed his wounds. He tried to make his voice sound cheery to match the painted smile that covered his lips. Short and brief in all he said, afraid if he spoke too much, his plastic falsity would become apparent. Eyes on the floor, avoiding conversation and interaction at all costs, slipping away as soon as the introductory small-talk had been exhausted.
"Hey bro, how you doin'?"
"I'm good."
"You sure? How are things?"

Smile, eyes up, fight the tears, don't let your voice break. "Everything's good."

Drained and exhausted but he knew the end of the day brought a false hope. Home was no better.

The mirror still lay in pieces on the floor. Ten million shards of glass and tears. The countless pieces scattered across floor. Each one a memory. Each one a fault. Each one a monster. Pain, fears, nightmares; they all came flooding back. His wounds burned as the tears began to flow. Fight the tears. Stop it before it erupts. Cover your mouth. Calm down, relax, breathe; drown them quickly, quickly. Recover. Deep breath.

He had put it off as long as he could but it was time to leave. The mask lay on the bed. The bus was pulling up outside. With trembling hands, he donned the smile. He knew why he had to wear the mask.

"I'd seen that look on your face before. It's the same one I taught myself.. I figured it out too late. You gotta learn to hide the pain, and practice smiling in the mirror. It's like putting on a mask."