A smile can be more than just the means to convey happiness. At the end of the day, it can be a lot of things beyond the conveyance of emotion.
Some people smile because they're happy. For me, it's hard to remember the last time I did that. My smile isn't the convenyance of joy, or a delcaration of the great day I'm having.
It's a mask.
I can see my mask has an infectious personality. With each step I take up the sidewalk, watching other people pass me by, I can see the fake smile I hide behind jumping onto the muzzles of other people, spreading wide upon them in a genuine display of elation. I guess it does bring me some joy to know that hiding behind a mask can bring other people their own happiness, but at the heart of it all, it still doesn't help me find mine.
It sounds a little selfish, I suppose, and I contemplate it as I make my way up the beaten down pavement, casually heading to the convenience store for a quick soda. I get more smiles on the way inside, and I find myself wondering now if people can see past the fake smile and they're just being friendly, or perhaps if they're smiling to bite back on other reactions, perhaps wearing fake smiles themselves. Some people frown on the goggles that I wear every day, or the black tank top that hugs my fur like a second skin, but even if I wasn't in a bad mood, I'd still wear those with pride. I've got to maintain that part of my look, whether or not I'm smiling for real. The passerbys are just lucky I decided to put on pants today, but the dull, lifeless gray pair I picked were no coincidence. Sometimes, I knew how to dress just how I felt.
But I can't let anyone see past the smile.
"Buck twenty-four," the cashier says as he rings up my bottle. He's not too much different than me, I bet, with the same lifeless expression on his face every single time I come in to grab a drink. The guy clearly hates his job, doesn't care about regular customers, and given the ratty state of his attire and multiple, blotted stains on his work uniform, he doesn't care too much about himself. It's always sad to see someone else that has given up on life, or perhaps themselves, but if the only reason he gave up was because he wasn't happy with his job, then he really needed to re-evaluate his situation. Almost everyone works a job they hate, and getting to see this guy every day was a solid reminder of that, and just how much it could bring you down.
I didn't ever really let my job get me down, though. Work is inevitable, and you should try to do what you enjoy most if you can, but sometimes, you think something is inevitable, and it certainly isn't. The gentle fssssssssssh[/b] of my soda as I twist the cap off of it? Inevitable. The quiet bing-bong[/b] of my pawsteps setting off the doorbell as I leave the convenience store? Inevitable. The dry, tired eyes of the washed up tabby cat cashier following me as I go about my day? Pretty much inevitable.
Ending up stuck in a rut and feeling like you've lost something that maybe you never really had in the first place? I don't think that's supposed to be inevitable.
To be honest, I never really cared before what people walking down the street thought of me. I didn't notice their reactions as they passed me by, didn't pay any attention to their facial features, and I certainly couldn't care less about their personal effects or anything they might be holding. I wasn't overly concerned with where they were going or what they were doing, but as the year changed, and as the times changed, I found that I might be changing along with them, and it took me to such a point that I began to question the authenticity of what I once thought was my genuinely good nature.
Having a serious falling out can do that to you, though.
Even the bubbly cola, fizzing about inside my maw as I take a sip and try to appreciate the overly sweet flavor, just doesn't have the same kick that it used to. It frustrates me to think that I can't decide if it's missing something, or perhaps if my tastes have just changed to appreciate that it was never that great in the first place, but all through it, I keep that smile. I let my fangs shine in the sunlight of a rather beautiful day. Despite the lack of refreshment, I let out a quiet, satisfied "Ahhh..." as if I were a spokesperson on a soda commercial. Maybe I'm overselling it, at this point, but anyone who had been paying attention to me for that long would have only seen me enjoying life anyway.
My own darkness was no excuse to bring down others, after all.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who dwells in the darkness when I feel that I've done something wrong, and perhaps even moreso when I'm not sure that I did anything wrong. It's worse when I feel that I have to figure it out, instead of just knowing from the get-go what I did wrong. In that case, I can sit and reflect on my mistakes and be done with it, and move on once I've repented, but in this case, I have to sit and dwell, just hoping that I can figure things out during my walk through downtown.
There's a place of peace for me, not quite half a mile up the street in the form of a lovely, bountiful park, one of the few places you can find grass in the concrete jungle, and I know that once I get there, I'll be able to relax, but as my footpaws fight me every step of the way, my mind is burdened with the invisible weights of my thoughts. Should I have just stopped it from the beginning? Could I have made more time after all?
Is it worth it to be with many at the cost of losing one?
My tail starts to drag as if it's attached to a rock, and I consciously flick it up from the uneven concrete of the abused sidewalk. More than anything, I try to keep that positive appearance, even if my mind is a shambles of guilt and self-deprication. In a way, I know that I deserve it. I'd never intentionally harm another living being, physically or emotionally, but sometimes, despite our best intentions, we find a way to damage someone that we care about.
Worst of all, sometimes that damage runs too deep, and the bridge can never be rebuilt. Like the sidewalk beneath my footpaws, I watch as each divided area of concrete develops deeper and wider cracks, sometimes leaving the path so jagged that I wonder why the city hasn't come out to do something about it yet. If they'd made minor repairs when only one or two cracks were in the path, perhaps they could have avoided having to tear it all up and replace it.
An important lesson to bear in mind, I remind myself. Those best intentions...those painfully wrong ideas that tell us that patience runs infinite in the hearts of others, and that we'll never run out of time or opportunity to make things right...those best intentions are wrong, just this once. It would have been nice for them to be right. It would have been even nicer for me to be able to keep my friend around and not have to choose between him and a smaller group that he just didn't seem to be a part of.
Having to choose between the many and the one is always a difficult decision, and one I don't envy anyone that has to make it. I'm lucky, in a manner of speaking, that this was just a matter of friendship gone wrong. Just trying to imagine having to pick between saving one child or a group makes me sick to my stomach, and suddenly, my soda is even less appetizing. If not for the fact that I hate wasteful spending, I'd have tossed it in the trash can that I passed at the next intersection, but it was nearly a full bottle, and the fact was that I could really use something to try and keep my mind occupied until I got to the park. Obviously, soda isn't nearly enough of a mental stimulant to distract me for that long, but as I step back up onto the sidewalk, having crossed another avenue, I delight in knowing that the park is literally just a block away. Peace, quiet and refuge, and if I was lucky, no other people around to have to wear a smile for.
I really did wear it for everyone else. No matter how hard you might try, you're a fool if you think you can lie to yourself for very long, and the downward spiral of guilt that I felt kept me from lying to myself about the situation whatsoever. I might still be in slight denial that I was losing a friend, or in denial that I'd done anything wrong, but excuse after excuse was inexcusable, and a lack of dedication on my part could show either a lack of a spine, or perhaps, just my true intentions towards the friendship. Was I trying to passively step back and away from him? Was I just letting excuse after excuse build up until he would get frustrated and leave me behind instead? It would bring a burden of far less guilt if I didn't have to make the decision myself, but the idea of manipulating someone into such a decision was twice as guilt laden and far more painful to consume, even if I no longer had a choice. It was a lot like eating a piece of rich, decadent cake; one or two bites is really all you can handle before the sweetness is overwhelming, and the ludicrously rich flavor gives you an upset stomach, but you simply have to finish it, perhaps because you're stubborn, or, in my case, just because you promised yourself that you would.
It's just like having to swallow back all of those excuses, and unfortunately, they aren't nearly as rich. They're bitter. They're downright foul at the end of the day, and at the end of the long friendship it seems that I lost, they're simply unbearable. I can't help wanting to toss them out, but they keep on coming back to me, like a boomerang made of yesterday's garbage. No matter how hard I throw them, they find their way back just fine, and I can almost smell them coming when they do.
The only thing to reassure me is the change in texture as my tired paws finally land upon soft, cushy grass instead of firm, brutal concrete. I feel the individual blades poking up through my pawtips, tickling the hardest to reach spots on my paws, and each little tickle is like a friendly reminder that I'm back to a place where my mind can be at ease. Something about this place in the city reminds me of the calm place I used to have in my soul, and just being here, I can see the clouds starting to clear up overhead, and the sun starting to take control of the city skyline that it so desperately wishes to dominate.
I'm back to tranquility, at least, for now.
The soda has no place, here. I chug the bottle down as fast as I can, doing my best to fight past the simply artificial flavor and toss the empty bottle in the first garbage can I walk past. It's on the way up my favorite hill, the one that always seems to be perfectly bathed in sunshine, with just the littlest bit of cover from the trees, like Mother Nature herself offering a comforting shade right when you need it. Truly, it's a place that I'd consider Heaven on earth. I jog hastily up the hill now, my tail wagging authentically for the first time all day, and still, I'm smiling, but this time, I've taken the mask off. There's no need to put up a front if you really are happy, after all, and a genuine smile is a beautiful thing to share.
As I reach the top of the hill, I flop over on my back, hug my tail around to my chest, and share that blissful smile with the lovely sky.
Here, in this wonderful place, this slice of reality that is so generous that it borders on surreal, I don't doubt myself anymore. I leave that part of my mind back on the sidewalk, uncaring if it rolls into the street and gets plowed by a moving vehicle. The sun warms my body, the sky is eternally inviting, and the grass and soft earth cradle my back, holding me up and giving me just a little extra support, which is all I really need. Sometimes I think Mother Nature is just telling me that I need to grow a spine and have a little conviction, to trust in my decisions and realize that what is done has been done; there's no going back, and that I just need to make the best of what there is.
Even the clouds in the sky, all two or three of them that are left in my view, seem to reinforce the fact. I hate to admit that perhaps my guilt carried over a little bit, even into this tranquil place, as one of the clouds looks just like him, that lost friend...but again, the world around me tells me what I need to hear, and shows me what I need to know, as the cloud becomes more and more unrecognizable, right until it completely vanishes, yielding to the bright wisdom of the sun. The other clouds that remain group together and move away from the dissapation, guided by the light of the sun, and as I watch, I feel like I'm seeing a short film about my life, put on entirely by the elements around me.
Like I said, surreal.
Other than coming and paying homage to the beautiful nature around me, it makes me wish there was another way I could give thanks to this place for opening my eyes and keeping my head above water, but the cooling breeze that passes over my muzzle, bringing with it the sweet scents of the fruit-bearing trees and the food trucks nearby seem to tell me that just being happy for myself is all the thanks that nature needs. In my right of mind and finally at peace with myself, at least for the moment, who am I to argue with that?
