Fake

I originally wrote this about a photo that was shown to me be but unfortunately, I was unable to find the photo so you just going to have imaging it, and I will do my best to give you the image through words.

If would also be kind as to lisent to this song while reading it that would be great. I was listening to it when I was writing this and it really spoke to me about this blog.

A dimly lite Subway underground. The whole background is blurred into gray shapes. A person sits unfocused to the right, back facing us. A man sits, slumped, facing the camera, with a box on his head and a drawn video game smile upon it. He too is gray, wearing a hoodie and jeans, nothing special. There is an non-blurred  pole to his left and a door to his right.  I feel loneliness, isolation, and fake when I look at this man. The gray brings sorrow and "normality". I feel the pressure the world has on humans to always be happy and to be like everyone eles. I feel the need and pain to hide ones self.
It makes me want to just go and rip that fake smile of his face. To peel off the artificial life on him, that life we force our selfs to create. I don't want him or anyone to sit by and hide the real pain of a fake smile and a fake life.
That man on this subway used to be himself. He was proud of who he was, what he was like. Maybe he used to be a nerd. He loved to play videogames and wanted to become a videogame creator.  But then he came into the "grown-up" world after college and was ridiculed for his "child" like hobbies and his want to make videogames. They told him it was not a real job, that it was silly, and that he should try something eles. After not finding a job in the field for months, and living an lonely year, he felt he had no choice but to change to the person everyone told him he should be.  So he now sits on a subway, hoping that someone will see this fake smile he has now created. That the world will see the true, terrified, and lonely soul, that survies underneath his ridiculous new face. Much to his distaste, not a soul notices or remarks this strange face he wears. He is now what they told him to be, fake, and it hurts.