Beneath the Surface, Behind the Eyes

Just something short that I wrote a little while ago. This message goes out to everyone who has felt the unyielding brutality of those monsters known as society and conformity.

Look at you now. You straighten your carefully dyed hair every morning, never letting even a slight curl pervade your platinum-blonde locks. You sweep black mascara onto your already perfect eyelashes. Your lips, soft and supple, are coated in lipstick, bright red against your faintly orange, spray-tanned skin. I can only watch as you slowly, routinely strip away pieces of yourself, the parts of you that make you who you are, that set you apart from the rest of the world. Your hair was once a beautiful reddish brown, flowing delicately down to your shoulders. You used to wear no makeup, nothing to mask your natural features, nothing to hide the person you had been born as. Now look at yourself in the mirror, and tell me that you are a better person now.

Look at your friends. Observe their almost identical blonde hair, their almost identical tanned skin, their almost identical made-up faces. They look just like you. But are they copying you, or are you copying them? Or are you, all of you, following the laws that society writes. The laws that tell you what you must wear, how you must speak, who you must be like. You accept their rules, follow their guidelines, and, in return, they take from you your originality, your own style, your personality. If you thought about it, you would say that you liked what society had done to you, you like the way you look just like everyone else. But you don’t think about it, do you? No, you don’t, because society does not encourage original thought.

Who am I? I know you better than any of your so-called friends. I might know you better than you do. You’ve met me before, but you wouldn’t remember that. You didn’t even know that you were listening to the words I whispered in your ears. You didn’t even hear my voice, and much of what I said went ignored. But some of my words you heeded. Some of my words you listened to, and acted upon. Every once in a while, the words would pervade your mind, help you make decisions, keep you from making mistakes. It’s been so long since you heard me, longer since you actually listened.

Who am I? I am you.

I am not your conscience. Even now, you listen to your conscience.

Who am I? I am you.

I am the part of you that has been all but forgotten. The part that has faded to obscurity.

Who am I? I am you.

I am you in the truest of forms. I am you without the makeup, without the hair dye, without the rules of society dictating every aspect of life. I am you before. I am the memories that have built you up, the memories that made you who you are…who you were. Once upon a time, you acknowledged me. Once upon a time, I was more than just a slight feeling at the back of your mind. Once upon a time, I was the voice, stronger than your conscience was, that told you, rather than right and wrong, what you should do. Not should do because it would be considered morally correct, what you should do because it would, if anything, make you more of yourself. It would make you come closer to realizing what made you unique.

That was before.

Now, I stare out at the world through your eyes. I watch as everything you do takes you out of yourself. You change gradually, but significantly, every day. I can do nothing to stop you. My protests die unheard, my objections never reach your ears. I merely watch, despairing, as everything that defines who you are as a person disappears. I am locked away, hidden from everyone, forgotten. I am dying, fading away without a trace. There is no longer any memory of me anywhere. When you have forgotten me, I will be gone forever, irretrievable, irreplaceable.

Who am I? I am you.

I am the part of you that it kept secret. I am the part that exists only beneath the surface, behind the eyes.

Reviews

[Lee Kuro]

Beautiful as always, Erin. You never cease to amaze me. It's well-written, horribly true, and describes all the girls at my school. They're probably nice, but rude is the new kind. Lovely how some of us haven't forgotten who we really are. The rare 15% of us...

Amazing. I love it.

~*Lee*~