❝Bathroom Talks❞ m.yg x p.jm [eng trans]

3

⚠️ Contains mentions about suicide. Read at your own risk. If you don't feel comfortable being confronted with this topic, SKIP this chapter ⚠️
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Silently he wiped away the tear from his cheek, whereby the salty-acerbically taste was already spreading in his mouth, before he upheld his head and surveyed the mirror image. Weakly he shook his head and whispered the six same words again and again like it was a mantra.

"I can't go on any longer."

"I can't go on any longer."

"I can't go on any longer."

Again and again he repeated the same phrase, which no one was capable of hearing, except him. Because he isn't the one he's pretending to be.

He's the one who always laughs.

He had already forgotten when he had begun to hide his true face behind an insincere, radiant mask.
As well as he had forgotten about the little, fun-loving and honest boy, who left his soul long since.
The only thing he'll never forget about was the reproaches and judgements of his family and friends, when he was daring to give voice to the truth.

The truth.

A simple word but still so many ways to construe it, to draw it and to personalize it.
His truth was sharp and shiny like metal, red like blood and tasted salty like the tears channeling a way to the corner of his mouth.

There were so many further ways to draw the truth of this boy, but not even he was capable of depicting the whole truth in pictures and words. Thereto the comprehension of himself was missing, which he had lost years ago.

When he noticed what his true self had caused at his fellows, he used the mask as an aid, which he hasn't been taking off for one single day since then, at least in the presence of other people.
He has never taken it off, what caused the mask creating an independent part of his personality, which he wasn't able to push away anymore.

Because his beloveds' reaction built the indestructible link, which will always link the mask on him. Even if a day may come when​ someone else will find the beauty of the withered and dead truth, he won't be able to bring the truth outside.

Because he's the one who always laughs.

And when the day will come, when he can't imagine a tomorrow anymore and someone asks him, if he's fine, he's going to give them his bright, heartwarming smile and answer:

"I've never felt better than right now."

Because he's the one who always laughs.

During all those years he has forgotten how to be honest. But 'lying' is an unattractive word, he thought, hence, he prefers calling his behavior 'being silent'. But from time to time, during weakly moments, he wishes to escape from the cage the mask had built around his soul and to give free rein to his real feelings.

But he also knows the incredible ugliness and the therein contained insanity of his truth which prevents him from showing himself to the world. Not to show the mask, but to show his true self. But he knows that this dream will never come true.

He's condemned to spend his life up to the last breath together with the mask killing his true self day by day a bit more and the only residual thing is the mask pressing against his facial musculature like it was spures, in order to achieve the correct countenance, which satisfied his fellows.

And when the day comes, when you see him balancing on a bridge parapet and you try to prevent him from doing it, he's gonna answer you:

"Don't worry. I've never felt better than right now."

And he will give you his most beautiful, his brightest smile, before he spreads his arms and lets himself fall into the depth.

Because he's the one who always laughs.

Rooted to the spot I was standing already for a roughly quarter-hour in front of the cabin wall and stared at the written down text seeming like a novel unlike the other scribblings, while my sight was being blocked by the tears apparently having united. Incredulously I was just standing there. Never ever a text has accomplished to free the long-lost tears deep in my soul from their cage and to send them to freedom. I might've been sympathetic, but the famous liquid had never left my eyes' custody.

Some moments later my sight got a little bit clearer. But my thoughts still ran at full speed and my admiration for this text seemed to grow every second more.
Fastly I went back to my backpack and fished my pencil case out of it, before I disappeared in the cabin again having a pencil in my hand.
A such text having been written down with so much emotion should not stay without any comment.

Even if the opportunity of getting a reply was insufficient, I didn't want to do anything else than asking this one question.
That my fingers were trembling​ inexplicably​ I noticed first, when I put the pencil in front of the wall and began to write.

Has he ever looked for his true smile?

But before I could leave the school for today finally, I whipped out my phone to take a picture of this little masterwork.
Maybe this was against the unknown author's volition, but who knew how long it would last until the text would capitulate to time's pitfalls and dissolve by himself, in case it wouldn't had already been made indecipherable by a human hand.
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*emo hours*

[070918; edited: 090418]