Crossroads

Freshly painted façades plastered onto the faces of those we unconditionally adore demand a stronger eraser than our gentle smiles and gracious words. Anxiety intensifies as eyes fixate upon the three bubbles that consume the plastic screen while we wait for false affirmations or total neglect. Concealed behind a perfectly executed illusion the innocent audience fails to see what truly lies beneath the black opaque cloak that never hesitates. Never questioning the motives of who we want to keenly call ours, we unknowingly accept their invitation to play in their competition. Resembling an agitated pinball machine that can never win, the players of the game bounce from one amusement to the next, wishing that their skills will triumph and proceed to the next level. The rules are not explicit, and the umpire’s calls parallel those of a crazy eight-ball. Buried beneath their chests, beating hearts filled with kindness and love, crumble and fall to pieces. Yearning for affection that will never be acknowledged, the hearts tatter, hoping to be sewn back together by phrases littered with validation. Barricading their weakened fortresses, coarse emotions fill their souls and the beautiful little fools disappear.