Call Me Monster

Red

Red -

hatred and anger

~

I'm on a train to nowhere, the tracks of life powering the train to a destination completely out of my control.

This is how I live, how I've lived and how I will live.

What is the purpose of my existence? I am but a pawn on a chessboard, surrounded by kings and queens.

My hands grip the sides of the sink, as I stare into the mirror.

The person that stares back opens his mouth slightly, as if to ask,

who are you?

The bad boy, a completely narcissistic jerk with sarcasm lacing his every movement and words.

The nerd, lover of books and contender for a great future.

The golden boy, star of the school, person of envy.

None of them are who I am. They're the unwritten labels bound to my forehead, the ones I may never shake off.

I can not be who I am, because of who my parents are.

I can not be who I want to be, because society would not condemn it.

I can not be who I was, because of the looming shadows.

The mirror dances in front of me, capturing my entire attention. My eyes glint with an emotionless malice. The fluorescent lights casting a ghastly shadow of a mask across my face. I sneer at the reflection, hate suffocating the air. My hands shoot out involuntarily, and before I know it, the image shatters into a million of unrepairable pieces.

Grimacing slightly at the cuts on my knuckles, I allow the shadows to take over, shaping my features into the lovable golden boy.

The show must go on.

I am my father's son, heir of a prestigious company. This weakness must never, ever be shown, to anyone. Who am I to complain about my problems anyways? I have everything that anyone could want. Wealth, power, a loving family, amazing grades, popularity and the looks to boost.

My jaws clench as my hands stiffly unwound itself from the tight fist. I straighten up and take a deep, long breath, slowly letting it out as if it'll chase everything away. A slight adjustment of the suit and a quick washing of my knuckles refreshes me for the upcoming acting session. With a swift turn, I'm out of the room, leaving the broken memories for maids to attend to.

I meet my buddies halfway down the stairs and we exchange a series of useless hand gestures. It's the event of the year, my eighteenth birthday. I should be happy, ecstatic at the mark of the beginning to manhood. Yet, all I feel is a strange sense of empty, as if I'm leaving a shell for another. 

The event is being held at the huge ballroom of our house. The design is elaborate, with tables of delicious foods and drinks. People of high statuses litter the area, in their fancy formal wear. Instead of a friendly gathering, the atmosphere feels more like a fighting ring. They compliment each other with big, wide smiles. However, we all know it's a facade. Their every move is calculating, trying to top their rival. It's disgusting and absolutely immature.

Before my mouth decides to run, I quickly excuse myself and head off into an unoccupied seat, away from the spotlight. It is there, that I discovered her. 

The one black swan. 

She dons a dress of midnight blue, the seemingly silk fabric wrapping her every curve, accentuating them. The strapless cut shows off her sun kissed shoulders and toned arms. The dress is long enough to cover her feet. But, occasionally, a small peek of her black pumps glinted in the light as she moves. However, it's her smile that blew me away. Careless, sunny, and free, it radiates with the strength of the sun and lights up the entire room. 

How I wish to be the one to cause such a phenomenon. 

Why is she here?

As if sensing the intensity of my stare, she turns around, making eye contact with me. 

Before I can relish in the satisfaction of having her attention, she turns away, the ends of her dress twirling with her. 

Disappointment washes over me like a dark storm, the raindrops weighing upon my shoulders, as if wanting to bury me into the ground. 

A soft touch lands on my shoulder, and my face automatically generates the widest, happiest smile I could manage. Mother guides my stiff figure into the center of the room, beginning the speech of my journey. I stand beside her, towering over her petite frame. I'm smiling at the audience but my eyes only search for her. 

The eyes of a hundred people were fixated on me as I talked, but none of them belonged to her. 

She's a drug addiction, forbidden, and I just can't get enough of her.

A chilling breeze abruptly brushes past my ears from the open windows, the words it whispers drops a weight of a couple tons on my shoulders. I feel older, sadder, as if life itself had decided to turn against me. 

Winter will never catch summer.