Wearing a Smile

[SilkiyTea]

---

My Father taught me that ugly things should not be seen. It's why we use bandages to cover wounds.
Why magic and potions can hide away scars.
Why I should never show my face.

He said he never smiled, because his smile was an ugly, nasty thing.
A thing full of malice and love. A love for what he did, when he smiled.
When I said I had seen him smile. He told me my eyes were bad.

Broken, ugly little things. Like a mangy mutt.
I just thought he was right.
Father is always right.

But I am stupid. So I tried to make a smile like his.
On a paper bag. I dripped ink.
I squiggled a big line!

I showed him my Smile. I hoped he would be proud.
He laughed and laughed. Wordlessly did he grin.
Then he adorned his smile.

Purple is a pretty color.
Purple is a scary color.
Purple is my favorite color.

That is what his smile taught me.
That I should be afraid when Father smiles.
That bad things happen when he smiles.


That night, he never stopped smiling.
That night, I listened to Mother scream.
That night, I learned how scary.

A Smile.

Could Be.

[SilkiyTea]

---

A princess bought me a home.
She lavished it in expensive, gaudy things.
Stocked it with food. Soaps. Clothes.
Everything I could ever need.

At first I smiled at all these nice pretty things.
Things I'd never had before. I slept in a real bed.
I brushed my teeth, and washed my hair.
But then I started to think.

What would Father say, if he saw me now?
I think he would take his scalpel.
And Press it to my cheek.
I know what he would say.

He'd tell me what would I be. Without that princess?
That I cannot change what I am, and always will be.
Nothing, nobody, nowhere.
Expendable as any other mutt.

It is my place of safety. But...
Not a place that is mine.
Everything she has given me, is hers.
To take away whenever she wants.

That is what I would deserve.
... ... ... ...
It's not what I want.

Big K told me, I need to be stronger.
I think I understand now.
If I'm not strong, I am not useful.
If I'm not useful, the pretty princess may...

Let me go.

I need to help her get the things she wants.
I need... To protect her. And.
Learn to patch her up.
I will be like Father. An ugly nasty person.

Surrounded by beautiful people.
. . .

Sometimes, I see his Smile in the mirror. Hovering behind me.

[SilkiyTea]

---

Today I took off my Smile. I wore my face.
It felt strange, and icky. Frightening and ugly.
It felt like everyone was staring at me.
I hated it- but I liked it.

I saw Father in the crowd in Dal'thala.
Purple suit. Purple mask.
A smile as wide as could be.
I was frightened. I tried to ignore him.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry.
I wanted to shout and. And.
And then the Dragon and her friends asked me...
To follow them.

We wandered through the trees. We entered.
Strange places. Filled with ores.
Herbs. Mineral. Coins.
Coins that fell from the flesh of beasts.

Places that the Dragon said were made.
Made by those that built that tower.
That thing that spirals skywards without an end.
And they all.. They all..

Said how useful my magic was. That I helped.
That I did good. I think they were just being nice.
But, but the dragon bought me to her hoard.
A place shared with friends.

And made me a gift. A weapon.
That is the third gift I received.
The dragon is passionate.
The princess is kind.

....
I want to keep them safe.
....
I want to patch their wounds.
....
I want them to find me useful.
....
So that they don't throw me away.
....

Father visited that night. While I tossed and turned.
He laughed, and laughed. Like he did that night.
When he chose to only smile.
He said all I did was pointless, a struggle.

He told me. He told me.
That the struggle. Just makes.
The inevitable. All the better.

...He left with a smile, and I felt ill...
I will. Prove him wrong.

[SilkiyTea]

---

Every time I close my eyes. I hear it.
A peek, a pinnacle. A scream.
Every single scream. Imaginable.
Moonscorched. All of them.

Dead before they hit the ground.
Dead, and yet aware of it.
Kids my age. Mothers. Fathers.
I heard Father laughing.

In that muted silence. His.
Cackling.

Was it an act of dark humor then?
That the woman- no. Animal.
Who caused such destruction.
Mayhem. Cruelty.

Would allow us farewells.
Goodbyes.
Will her light. Haunt my dreams?

I barely knew her. But she.
Tried to pluck me by my jacket.
To pull me from Father's shadow.
A chance to live. As me.

And not as Father.

Father said.
Father this.
Father that.
Father. Father. Father.

The moon still screams, in the night.
So do the people of New Dexia.
I was. Starting to like it there.
People caring for me, beyond pity.

A wish to look and talk with me.
Not at me.

Gone. All Gone. But I said.
I said I would. Try to shine.
How does shadow shine.
How can a shadow shine?

...
...
...
...

By making those that do.
Shine brighter.
By becoming darker.
More discolored.
Until the bright. Vivid colors..

Pop right out!

...
...
...

It feels like when Father stole Mother.
But I cannot become. A Tragedy.
I will become. Something more.

I will be the ugly. To make the beauty shine.
I shall. Become brave.
I shall. Let my hands. Grow bloody.

I will become the ash.
At the Phoenix's talons.
I will become a dark.
To make the Phoenix's flame.
Stronger.

I can. I will. It's scary. It's.
Okay to be afraid.

I hate that the moon smiles at me
Within my dreams.

[SilkiyTea]

---

I am Kala.
You are Perkalas.

I lost my new home, in New Dexia.
You never had a home to begin with.

Taglia and Tristinia are my mothers.
I am your father. And your mother is a corpse, the maggots feast on her eyes.

I have a lot of friends! They're nice.
None of them care for you. They speak through you. At you.

I'm called cute, pretty, and adorable!!
To try and hide away that ugliness. That filth. Disgusting.

My friends like me.
They use you. A puppy. A mutt. A fool.

I am cared for, and loved.
Ideals. Morality. They will never choose you first.

I want to be a doctor to help people.
To hurt people. To bleed them.

I am... Happy.
Misery loves company.

I am strong.
Weak of will. Mind. Body.

I will grit my teeth, and keep my head above the waves.
You are not swimming. You are drowning. Screaming.

I will remember the people I love.
You will remember that they do not love you, as much as you love them.

I will not be like my father.
And yet, I am all you aspire to be.

I am Tired of waking up. . .

[SilkiyTea]

---

Three years. It's been three years since my first Mother died, since my Father showed me his 'Smile', and since I've ran away from home. I'm fourteen going on fifteen, and I've met wonderful people that have shown me that there's a world beyond the despair that I wallowed in. No longer do I feel that need to hurt people, to make them see and feel the things that I have felt.

For every piece of strife. For every death. For every ounce of pain, fear, and suffering that's been inflicted on me... I've managed to find my respite and revelry. I've managed to grow beyond, beyond the whispers and dreams my father tried to force onto me. Beyond the defeat and fear that gripped my heart.

I have found my revelry amidst my strife and struggles, and because of that... Because of that..

I shall never falter.

My fears, my traumas, and my pains fuel my magic. But those moments of excitement and joy, the celebrations and smiles. The ability to find a joke or a grin amidst fear, is helping me temper it. I have ran from many things, and many monsters, and so many people. But I won't flee anymore. I'll close my eyes and remember what truly frightens me to feel that strength. Then, I will remember the smiles of my friends, my siblings and my mother, I will remember the lessons I've been taught! And I will carry forward, even in the most frightening of moments.

Sometimes at night, when I'm alone, I will offer a prayer of my own. I like to think it helps.

So that you remember that you're not alone, that you must have had your own celebrations.

That in this strife and struggle. I hope you can find your joy.

Looking back on all of my disjointed writings from before I'd made friends, talked to people, and was taken in... I see the mind of a child on the brink. Father, you almost won. You were close, I feel. Maybe that is why you still sometimes lurk in the shadows, or whisper in my dreams. But unlike you, I've found a way to have fun with the life I've been given! And fun I shall have! I will celebrate, I will feast, I will laugh and fight! Dance and sing! 

I think it's time I close this book for now, and focus on my steps forward. The past has its important stuff, and I will still cling to all of the scary moments and trauma I've experienced and let it build my strength, my power. But I won't wallow in it. I won't succumb to despair. I'll never be like my father. I'll be like Tris, and I'll climb from the depths of it. I'll be like you, and cherish the sweetest moments hidden among the dreary. I'll be... Myself.

I'll always wonder if we did the right thing. After hearing those words. Hearing your peoples cries.

Maybe one day, when I'm old and decrepit, I'll make a one way trip.

To that dungeon that lays within the mists.

And see if we did.