Faces

Space. Absolute vastness and absolute emptiness. You’d like to be marooned here soon if you start believing in the fact that there’s nothing to live for anymore. No new faces, no new experiences. Burn you down, stuff your ashes into a 50 caliber bullet and shoot you alongside a spacecraft. Pretty good way to go out, hoping you don’t go straight into the control module of a satellite or whatever it is, floating above us. That would be bad but another memorable way to go out with a literal bang.

Time here on earth, what have you made of yourself? Have you let this macabre society get the better of you? Played with the strings of control that attach you against the weird reality of constant disregard, as life. You shall be truthful to your own self, if not now then later. But you will be. When you finally see yourself, you’ll see a face. A face filled with lines, wrinkles, and hopes. Hopes of what each crater in your skin may hold. Everything that you are, is absolutely you. In sickness and health, in good times and bad, it’s all you. Being the start and end of everything. But let’s get into shallow talks right now. Let’s talk about faces. How many have you seen yet? A million? 2 million? A billion? Or are you one of the kinds who really doesn’t bother seeing the environment? The kinds who aren’t bothered by the zipping life left, right and center. The lines that end up become such a fast blur that you believe everything to be in a state of suspended animation. But if you are the kind to notice, notice well and wholly. These men, women and children have their lives. Even in a family, individually. Lots of scenes, lots of feelings. It shows through their faces, their almost non-existent (sometimes) but present holes and trenches, all along the length, breadth and width of their faces. Trace the life they’ve lived. The crinkle in someone’s eye, the soft whisper of someone who has lost their voice waiting to be saved. The eyes which stare at the open night sky wanting to know what’s beyond. Eyes, lips, nose, ears. All the same, yet so different. Absent eyes on an acid attack victim, broken nose on a domestic abusee, missing patches of hair because someone tried to burn her since she’s a girl, cataract ridden eyes because colors mean no more. All of them, still trying to crave their way, with the faces they’ve been dealt with.  Faces with laugh lines, faces with mascara lines, faces with frowns embedded into the skin, and faces that make you look within. The face of a man having mourned his child birthing wife, the face of a wife contemplating between pride and sorrow, having learnt of her husband’s death on a battlefield, the pride of a sister at having seen her brother excel in studies, in the absence of their parents, the happiness of a child at having successfully seen his mother blow a punch on an abusive dad. All of these emotions, conveyed through muscle movement on their individual faces.

Every face with a different story, yours becoming one with a sea of faces. Bobbing against waves of disillusionment, of emotions and one day you shall learn what it means for you to have a face.

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