by An Orphan Crowned
“Painted on, life is behind a mask
Self-inflicted
circus clown
I'm
tired of the song and dance
Living
a charade, always on parade
What
a mess I've made of my existence.”
-Natalie
Grant, “The Real Me”
*****************************
“Worthless," Her
partner muttered, noticing her weariness from dancing, and he deftly wove
through the many dancers to the side of the room. The colors of the beautifully
dressed crowd swirled around her in a blur. She couldn't see any details
because of the speed of the dance.
“So
ugly.” He smirked. They reached the edge of the mass of revelers, where the
man let go of her hands. This wasn't what she had asked for. She couldn't stand
it much longer. Certainly he had run out of insults by now.
“Hopeless.”
Maybe not. She steadied herself and curtsied to the young man, whose face was
hidden behind the slate gray mask. She did catch his sly smile, and he placed
his token on her mask, whispering a final word before moving away. “Plastic.”
The girl pulled her dance card out
of her pocket and read the names of the men she had danced with that evening.
Pride, Lust, Anger, Sorrow, Fear, and the man who had just walked away, Lies. She was beginning to believe that she
might, indeed, be turning into a plastic person.
I've been present long enough a
time, she thought. Maybe I might slip away unseen. She
was having a good time, for sure, but her mask was making her very tired. It
had gotten heavy with all of the tokens the men had given her.
I wonder if I might take it off,
just for a minute. She knew that tonight was the night she had to keep
it on, and to keep it together. Maybe tomorrow she'd let it off. She had no
intentions of anyone seeing her face tonight. It was far too different and, oh,
what others would say! How they would ridicule her! No, she told herself adamantly. The
mask must stay.
A wicked grin close to her face
startled her and she looked up into the eyes of Greed, her next companion. He
was very handsome and, after the initial scare, he began to look like a
promising dance. And it was a good dance. He knew his steps perfectly and the
two waltzed together in a wonderful rhythm.
The dance was over too soon, and she
wished to dance with him just a little longer. He placed his token, a golden
ring, on her mask and hissed in her ear, “More… you know you want more. You
will always want more from me.” A
wave of fear washed over the girl as she realized the truth in his statement.
She was suddenly startled again, as
a man swiftly stepped between the two of them. In a crowd like this, one
quickly noticed his odd choice of attire - a simple shirt and slacks, and no mask. What fool was this, stepping in
front of Greed, and disrespecting several of the rules of the ball at the same
time?
"Where's your mask? You cannot
dance without one!" Greed yelled at this strange man and tried to push his
way through. "She has another dance with me; look at her card!"
"Let's look, then!" The Man
agreed and turned to the girl. Truth flowed from his being to her heart. She
had never seen anyone without a mask. But this man, something was very different
about this man. He seemed brighter than the others in this room. He looked
better, more real, than all of the others in the room. In fact, he made everyone
else look fake. So very fake. Plastic,
the girl thought; and knew that she was just that.
Suddenly, the girl knew how
desperately she truly wanted to take off her own mask. She could be like this Man
and maybe some of the others would join her. It didn't matter what people said!
She grabbed at the strings of her covering, only to realize with horror that
they wouldn't untie. She pulled frantically at her mask, but it had adhered to
her own skin. She fell to the floor in a heap as she realized that she couldn't
take the covering off. It was over.
The mask was there to stay. Forever
a plastic person, she would be. She would never
get out.
Or would she?
*****************************
This story was inspired by a true
one. The girl was me. A lot of the time, it still is me. The word plastic describes me so well. I've “danced”
with many of these sins before and there was a point when this story was the
ultimate reality. Plastic is who I became. I'd “dance;” then I’d get tired. I've
tried to think my way out, but I would always choose to leave the mask on,
because if I didn't, others would see the truth. That truth, sadly, wasn't an
option.
I tried, like the girl, to take my
own mask off and be like the unmasked Man, or Christ, but there was no way to
do it, not by myself. I tried for a very long time to do it on my own, but it
left me broken. Dirty. Helpless. Alone. So very alone. I felt betrayed by
everyone, even God. There was no way to get out. Or so I thought. Then I
realized what was missing. But that part of the story is yet to be told.
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