Through this mask that hides my face, I can still see the world in it's vibrant colours. The beauty of it all never cease to amaze me. I long to feel the touch of the wind upon my cheeks. Is beauty only skin deep? What defines beauty?
Beauty is confidence. Beauty is life. Beauty is waking up in the morning and watching the sun rise up from the horizon. Patches of lavender during spring. Orchards in their season. Beauty is nature. Nature is beauty.
Sadly, mankind has taken all that for granted. To them, beauty is the size zero model on the cover of magazines. Beauty is like diamond rings. Beauty means spending countless on cosmetic surgery to remove every sign of aging.
I too once was like that. Treating beauty like a material possession. I was obsessed with it. Now, all I yearn is to remove the mask upon my face but I can't. The scarred face that lies beneath would disgust anyone who sees it.
Never judge a book by it's cover claims many. Without an interesting cover, a reader would never pick the book up. That's why authors and publisher spend so much time on choosing their cover art. With an attention capturing cover, readers will not pick up the book and will never know the story within.
I can still remember that day very clearly. As usual after a long day of work, with all the busy photo shoot schedule, I was relief to finally to be home. As I made my way across the street, a ragged dressed man came walking toward me with a cup in his hand. He splashed what I thought was coffee onto my face. It burnt every inch of my skin.
The doctors tried everything they could to restore my face. They gave up hope on me and told me to do the same. I couldn't. I searched throughout the world to find someone who could save me from this ordeal. I was determined to have my face back.
A young surgeon offered to give it a go. I was more than happy when I heard the news. Once again, I went under the knife. He told me he succeeded. I went through a long week of healing before being able to see my face. As they removed my bandage, a mirror was thrust into my hands. He was right, he had succeeded but I felt that I failed myself.
Every time I look into the mirror I see my used to be scarred face. What is beauty if human can play god and give beauty to anyone who wanted it? I was disgusted by the flawless mask that is now my face. Compliments like "you're pretty" and "you look beautiful" no longer please me. Every single word pierces through my heart like needles.
I have reached a point of no return. A mask upon my face that I have to live with for the rest of my life. A mask I cannot remove no matter how hard I try. He reaches out for my cheek. His warm fingertips rest upon my cheeks as I felt my mask melt away as he sees me for who I really am.
I look into his milky white eyes. Maybe this is the only way out.
