The Fake

By Safina Toree

I… was born defected.

I was made with something foul, something too ordinary.
Something that was not for attention.
An object waiting casually because it knows that people will look at it.

I…was invisible.

I was among those little flowers that people wouldn’t care if they stepped on it.
But remember, I was still a flower.
A small one; but still a flower.

I…was a silent screamer.

Like a mute being, my sound or agony was never heard over the sound of their laughter.
Why did I not have that?
The laughter ripped me from within, sharp and worse than a quick deep cut, though, it was judged like one.
A simple cut.

I…was a storm.

I felt it within me several times.
But I was a storm caged with the four walls that got stronger each time I wanted to break free.
I was a storm that felt the need to turn into a tornado.
The tornado was high, so high that it was terrifying.
But the walls were higher.
It had to calm itself.
But calming down wasn’t as thunderous as the rising.
Rather, it ended with pathetic rain.
But the damage was done by the time it was calmed down,
The walls have tightened.

I… was a chaser.

A chaser to a dream that was a reality to some.
An innocent simple dream of being one of those who laughed.
The carefree chortle, unaware of any shattering of glasses.
So oblivious, to the color red.
The sound was haunting and beautiful in my dark cage.

I…was a pretender.

Rather than being the one laughing, I became the reason for their laughter.
It was bigger than the dream I was chasing
And harder than I could ever imagine.
Every day, a new façade
Like a real dress up game, I used to play when my mind wasn’t still a maze of questions.
And my veins were yet to become a tangled mess.

I…was a murderer.

I found peace whenever I held the invisible knife that causes no less pain than a real one.
I smiled while I stabbed away my defected roots. Once, twice, thrice- until I was killed enough to turn into a clown; ready to show my teeth.

I…was a faker.
Time passed and I became aware of my sins.
The consequences that came with being a criminal.
My inside felt cold in summer and my skin was thick with blankets of my past.
I shivered in the night while I worked for other’s warmth.
The last ray was almost gone and I was freezing,
My inside was dry with no moisture within.

But I…was sunshine.

And my rays were so bright that it could’ve made the sun itself cower in shame.
Because I need it.
I need it to become the epitome of joy.
But then it showed the signs; signs of another knife.
Then another, and more.
All invisible but rawer than the previous ones.
I was paying for sins only I knew the existence of.
But I was okay being sliced over and over again.
I had to be.

Because

I…was an actor.

And an actor could win the world like a trophy while burying a body in cold blood.
I was the mysterious source of a rainbow that noticed every corner that had a cloud over them.
But one day, I felt the rainbow within faltering.
What was this? Where are the colors?

I could feel it then, in the very deep and secret corner of my body- the faint sound of the cage within me withering.
A storm, huh?
Long-time no see.
But wait; I listened carefully.
It wasn’t a storm; it was sloppier than that and stubborn.
It was determined for an escape, yet too scared of losing the game with its conscience.

I…was a coward.

I had befriended the cage with time.
But this time the cage wasn’t enough.
The storm or whatever- it needed a leash!
I knew I had to let it thrash around, hard and loud,
Until it becomes tired enough to die.

Die.

Death.

A murderer after all.

I…was a cool minded sociopath.

One that thought to kill another poor soul was pitiful but not worth thinking over.

I came back, extending the silence around me in the dark night like a ghost.
Satisfied when remembering the chokehold I put on that beast until all that nonsense quieted down.

I was perfect.

The barely living defective part of my subconscious mind laughed like a maniac.

Right, it was still there.

I knew I could kill it as long as my body is alive.
I also knew if I could embrace the defect rather than loathing it, I could’ve been resurrected.

But I can’t.

Because the tendency of being a rainbow makes me perfect and I was perfect.

Perfection was something that was mixed within my blood like my defect was.

So I walked away from the crime scene.

Further and further; with a calm smile on my face.

Like a faker.

The faker.

Hey! It’s me! Your rainbow is back. Where is it raining?

Wordsmith: Safina Toree

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