Pain, Suffering, and Numb

Moi

He stands there with his eyes looking out at the world. His hair moves as the wind runs its ethereal body through it, causing an eye to be covered. To rid himself of this minor annoyance he raises his hand to brush it away, an act that has become a common occurrence in the recent weeks. As his hand moves the rebel hairs we gain a glimpse of his eyes, green, bright, and intelligent as they look out upon the world around him. We take our time in studying his face, the slight stubble on his chin, scars and pockmarks from years of being plagued with acne. Some of these marks are hidden by the freckles that have adorned his face for years. His nose has not escaped these freckles and scars, and is possibly the most insignificant part of his face to be seen. A jawline is hidden by some of the excess that comes with youth, but each day it grows smaller and the haggard look is more apparent. The short, slender, frame that he will most likely have for the rest of his life does nothing to alleviate the look of age upon this young man. It adds to the effect, giving him a look that many attribute to frailty and not a tendency to be lean. The clothes that hang off of him in some places are a pair of well-worn jeans with worn-out knees, a sweatshirt that has seen one too many days without a wash, and a t-shirt that he grabbed at random while preparing in the morning. The sleeves of the sweatshirt are rolled up for some unknown reason revealing the mark that has set him apart his entire life, nothing entirely unique or special, simply a rather large birthmark on his left forearm. The skin on the inside of his forearms is not tainted by the troubles he has seen in his life, which is all too common with those that have afflictions similar to his own. A light scar, already fading, can be found further up, on his left bicep. We return to his face and see a scar that's existence is sometimes forgotten, and other times all too obvious, it resides just above his lips and is thankfully short in length.