Water never proved to be much of an escape, apart from being
a thirst saver. However, today I was proven wrong. When those photos were
carried into the classroom, bundled and stacked into cardboard boxes, I wished
that there was a swimming pool nearby, just to let me drown in them.
I was never one to fear my own face. But today was an
exception. I wanted an escape, away from that photo, and away from my friends.
A thought crawled into mind, was I running away from myself as well?
As my friends shrieked in excitement, and chatted heatedly,
I was frozen in my seat. I could feel my heartbeat perfectly, yet at the same
time, I felt like I wasn’t breathing. In all honesty, I wasn’t nervous or
anxious or petrified. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t
identify that inner turmoil that was growing within me. Who knew, after all
these years of trying with effort to feign ignorance to the surrounding stares
and whispers proved to be in vain when a numbing thought came into mind? The
truth is, I’m afraid of how people look at me.
All the staring, judging, silent whisperings and laughing could
take a toll on you. You could do nothing for the whole day and you’d still end
up battered and tired, emotionally drained. All you have to do is take a quick
peek and notice that look in people’s eyes. The one that obviously states
without mercy or care: You’re ugly.
It takes but a sentence to make you crumble. They don’t
notice the damage they’ve done, but you yourself will remember for eternity.
The inflicted mental pain sears into your memories like an ugly scar, and no
matter how many surgeries you’ve done, the wound would always be there,
reminding you of the hatred you once bore towards them.
When they poured out the pictures, still wrapped and bundled
in plastic, my friends swarmed the spot where the table that held the photos stood.
There was a tiny gap where my two friends stood, which was wide enough for me
to see through, to take a quick glance at the sheets of photos covering the
table. Instead of averting my gaze as I thought I would, I was to my own
horror, glued to the sight of them. I heard gasps and exclamations, and even
shouts, which did nothing to help me tear my eyes away from the photos.
One of them must have noticed my unusual behavior, for she
squatted down by my chair and shook my shoulders gently “Hey, you alright?”
I forced a tight-lipped smile and reassured her with a nod.
She replied with her million-watt smile before standing up “Oh, by the way,
here’s your photo.”
Before I could produce a response, my face flashed by. I
blinked hard, trying to adjust looking at my twin. My photo floated midair, as
I struggled between choking back my saliva and screaming out loud. My fingers
reached the sharp edge of the photo, before she let go.
Silently, I stared. My twin with exact features and scraggy
hair reflected my gaze. Suddenly, the heartbeat returned, and I felt myself
swallowing in air without any difficulties. I waited expectantly.
“You look nice.” She mentioned it so quickly that I thought
that I misheard her. Was my hallucinations finally taking over me?
“What?” My voice came out shaky and uncertain.
“I said, you look nice.” Before I could say anything,
another voice called out to her and she left. Once again, I’m left with my own
thoughts.
Could it be that my photo turned out well? I took another
look at my miniature size portrait and thought hard. To say that I was
surprised would be an understatement. I was never pretty, much less beautiful.
So was what she said a joke? Or was it her real thoughts?
I would never find out, unless I plucked the courage to ask.
But I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t go through the inner conflicts and all the
roller coasters of self-doubting again. Instead, I have chosen the path many
before me had. Accept yourself the way
you are because beauty is different in many ways.
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