When everyone laughed, she did as well.
Of course she did. What else was there for her, Maria Moore, to do? Stay silent, to seem rude, laugh louder than anyone else in the space they were forced to occupy, just to seem selfish or too much? From 7:45 to 3:00, Monday through Friday, and approximately 180 days, her life consisted of “people”, figures, sentient nonanomalies who knew their place in it all. Even outside of that time, that is what life consisted of. And it was Maria’s job to find where her piece fit into it all.
So that’s what she did.
In each room. Each class. In each place in society, whether work or school, the role of the figures, or students they were called in this tiny world within a world, were shown with the face they decided to decorate themselves with. Though it was no mere decoration, because their face laid everything to know about the individual. Everyone was seen at face value, no cared that much to go to the core. Some people adorned jester masks on their face, rosy cheeks and wide grins. They were the ones that made the atmosphere feel light, less tight, but still tight enough for our faces to remain the same. Some figures though, opposite to the jesters and clowns, as a padded ground for others. Something that was always there for you, holding you up, making sure your face was perfect even if theirs had cracked.
And with people like Maria, they didn’t need the support like everyone else did. But, they used and abused it anyway. Maria doesn’t use people because she has to, It’s because she can.
“You mind doing this for me?” She’d ask, though it was never a question, more like a command. Ask and she would recieve. It’s not like she was mean or anything, she said ‘please’ and ‘thankyou’ when the situation called for it, never gotten a call home for acting up, she acted the way she was supposed to. Nice, prim, proper. She varnished her soft spoken words and actions and that is what others would get. The face Maria wore everyday was impenetrable. Never cracked, never wavered. Always pure perfection.
It had to be.
“I swear,” a figure once said, “you wear it so effortlessly. I’m jealous.” Maria smiled, like she always did.
“Well of course I do, It’s just who I am.” She laughed when responding. The face she wore everyday was her true face. Well that’s what she told herself at least.
School had come to an end at 3:00 that day. As it always had. The day had been an exhausting day for her, as it was some days. There was a crack in the face she wore. And some had noticed. If anyone realized I- she was… The idea of someone getting that close disgusted Maria
She went straight home that day. Didn’t stop to hang out with friends, or stop by for a snack. Nothing.
And luckily, it didn’t take long for her to finally get home. Where she could finally wear her true face. She looked at herself in the dark reflection of her phone. It was but not her. Slightly blurred out. The light brown hair that cascaded down her back instead of flowing in directions other than down. The small moles that littered her face to her arms in a way only left a shadow of what is truly there. Whether I- she looked in the reflection of her phone or a mirror, Maria saw the person she wanted to be instead of the person she already was.
Maria Moore, she, I, we needed to escape this feeling. We hurriedly rushed through the front door, already feeling the face slipping. We quickly greeted our mom and dad like the good daughter we were. And with a soft click of our bedroom door, the mask fell to the ground with a light thump, one that was lighter than usual.
“Damn,” I groaned in exhaustion, “I’m tired of this bullshit.” I threw my backpack to some unknown corner of my room and landed face first onto my bed.
Before quickly getting back up. “I should at least change clothes.” I muttered to myself. And, time passed. Within the four walls I call my room, the one safe haven I have, where I don’t need to wear a face other than my own. But even that only lasted a few hours.
Because Maria had her facade on once again. And she did as she always did, or at least tried to.
Within her school, her world within a world, students never acknowledged the faces they wore. They were all similar because they all fought to hide their differences. Putting on fronts to hide what they were. The less dimension they had, the more they glued themselves to their faces, the more they showed who they were at face value then showing laid past that, all this shielded them in a way. Protected them. Because if they did get hurt, it didn’t hurt them as a person, it hurt them as a figure. Just another doll in a creaking doll house. Fabric skin that can easily ooze blood and show how disgustingly human one was.
And those figures, those students, no one could take that. Maria couldn’t take that.
“You were so different when we were younger, Maria.” The snide suggestion pulled on her heart hard. But Maria just smiled, as she always did.
“Yeah,” she laughed, “I was.”
Back when she didn’t have a face. Or even when she had glued her face hard to her face like most people did, before her face had truly blended with the rest of her.
But then, someone else decided to join in, reminiscing on things that were long gone. And meant to be gone. “I remember that too. Maria was so shy and awkward back then.”
And then more people.
Even when they were all chipping away at her mask. She still smiled. And when she looked down at the ground, she expected to see large pieces of her mask chipped away. Not that much of the mask came off. Only a fraction had truly come off. And as I lifted my hand and felt the soft skin of my cheek, I realized something:
I had become the person I was pretending to be. And it seems like the figures around me had realized that. They knew their words would have an impact on me, yet they said them anyway. And it seems like it worked.
One of them laughed nervously, “are you getting all worked up over this?” Before saying, “It’s not even that deep and yet you’re getting all worked up.” I looked at the figure in front of me. Laughing at me for becoming the one everyone aspires to be.
So, I did what I only thought was right. Even it was truthfully wrong. I walked to this figure. This student.
I grabbed onto the figure’s face and ripped it off. Gabriel fell to the floor in agony, red staining his hands and mine. I looked between Gabriel covering his face with his hands and the face I had in my hands. The exterior of the face I held in the palm of my hands was rough around the edges. Literally. It had furrowed brows and a large mean smile. But inside, it was different. The face was soft and delicate at the touch. As if it could break in the instant.
I looked back down at Gabriel. He didn’t look as mean as before. He looked weak and feeble. And maybe because he is. Everyone here is. Or maybe I’m maybe the weak one here. Using a face, no, a mask to cover who I really was like everyone else. And then taking it out on others. But that doesn’t matter anymore, I have finally found who I really am. Or have I?
I sigh to myself, “maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” I murmur before looking up at the figures surrounding me. But then again, I was able to find my truth face when they had practically forced to me to show mine
“If you want to see my true face so badly,” a crude smile grows on my face, “then why don’t I see yours.”
I sink to the floor of my room. My personal world within a world. “I really am,” I rest my chin on my hand and feel plastic, “as bad as the rest of them.”
Author’s Note:
I personally believe that this story shows what happens in our world today, but we just don’t talk about. I wanted to write this story not just because I liked the idea, but also because I want to use this as a message: That no one should allow their “face” to become who they really are, and that it is better to let people to come out their shell not with pressure, but with encouragement.
Oghale Akre | 13 | Nashville, TN | @x0.plasm on TikTok
