A Day-Late Response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Surface
This post was initially going to be a bit of a rant about surface people. I don’t consider myself one of them and dealing with them makes me feel unfulfilled. I want depth and intellectual stimulation when I speak to someone and when I converse with someone living on the surface, I don’t get that. No, I don’t believe that I am part of any elitist group of ‘deep’ people. I don’t think anyone is any greater depth than anything else.
No, that’s a lie.
I do think that we have different depths. Yet, in my experience, the deepest people are the most damaged. Maybe there is something about psychological scarring that just prevents us from living a surface life. A life of ease. A life where our greatest issue is the next paycheck coming in on time or our child’s grades. A life where ends meet, but without great ease. A life in which we don’t have to worry about anxiety or depression. Suicide or a stroke. The way others perceive us and whether or not we are ‘acceptable’. Because that is what a lot of us really want. To be accepted. Yet, we don’t fit in with the rest of you. We don’t fit in with you people who are able to smile with ease and genuinely enjoy life to its full. Is it too much to ask for acceptance? Is it too much to ask for stability? Is it too much to ask for a day off from our obligations? Our society? Our world? Our lives?
Here sit, drugged up, on caffeine, craving for just a day off. A day off without having to worry about what I will suffer from doing so. I am tired. And lazy. Terribly lazy. Like, if I have not got the motivation to do anything then I just won’t. And even then, sometimes it just too much effort.
Well, I guess that kind of did turn into a rant about surface people. What I was going to write was, “I dislike the fact that surface people can live a life without regret, worry, or concern, to the same degree as we scarred people are. I’m not saying that we are anything apart from worse off because we are weaker than you surface people. We are scarred and we are damaged. Just like anyone is. Thing is, that scar affects us more than we can cope with and sometimes, just sometimes, it puts us into a rut that we can’t get out of. And when you surface people tell us to just ‘get over it’. That is when we snap. That is when we lose our ability to maintain control and everything just shatter. I beg of you, surface people, never, NEVER, tell someone to ‘just get over it’.”
And here comes the twist.
An on-time Response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Obsessed
Okay, so I read that wrong. For some reason, I thought it was ‘desire’ and so that is what I had prepped myself to write about. But alas, I’ll carry on as I would anyway. Now, where was I. Ah yes, the twist. . .
“Just getting over it” is exactly what we want. You say that, and you are wrong to say that because you do not understand and, in most cases, have not even attempted to do so. What infuriates us, though, is not your blatant disregard for our struggle. What irks us more than anything is the fact that no matter how hard we try, we can’t be like you. All we can do is wear a mask and look like you. I have met many a person who lost themselves in a mask that they refused to take off. They became obsessed with wearing the mask. (huh,see that? I made the prompt work. xD)
For those of you who actually are reading this from my site or from your email updates, I feel bad about making you click “read more” just for the above. So for you, I’ll explain my theory on masks.
The Mask of the Maskmaker
I am in a pretty much permanent state of identity crisis. I guess that that could be called my most defining feature. The fact that I don’t know who I am beyond ‘a bad mask maker’.
In my view, we are all wearing masks. We are all hiding from something. So by wearing a mask, we can hide ourselves from the things that worry us. This is true for me at least. Or it was. Or it will be? I don’t know. I suspect that all are the case. I always used to run and hide from my demons that would greet me as I woke up each day and now I am trying to work alongside them so that I don’t have to live in as much fear. Currently, it’s going . . . yeah, it’s going. I still live in fear that I am going to flip out from caring about too much, or falling into a state of total apathy, where there is very little that can keep me from striding off the edge. The masks I wear are made of a water-like liquid, but there is only so many hours in a day that I can hold onto them for. After that, I lose grip and it falls. The worst part is that I put on that mask and rush up the stairs each day knowing that I am only going to come tumbling back down in the early hours of the night.
Wow, I digress a lot. Erm, well. I was speaking of. . . maks. Yes! Masks. Masks are what we use to cover our scars and hide our demons. They allow us to take control of our lives and live among you surface people. We wear the same full faced smile that you do yet the only difference, is that we had to manufacture ours. Manufactured masks. Manufactured Happiness.