Wake up make up.

It's 2001. Serj Tankian motivates the rest of SOAD to create an anthem. As many anthems they'd create. Such a glorious band, way too talented.

Grab a brush and put a little makeup
Hide your scars and fade away the shake up.

I wear makeup every day. Especially now. It's not the plasters of weird smelling mixtures that are either hyper destructive to any form of dermical life or basically dirt and stone mash with fragrance. My makeup is my smile. The show must go on.

I must go on, be the example, be strong, hold it. I can. I am strong. I'm surprising myself, somewhat. All that reading of Marcus Aurelius, all that discussion about values, all that soul searching - if I compare "now" and "7 years ago", in the same situation, I'm doing freaking amazing. Modesty apart.

But rarely anybody knows it.

Because I wear my makeup. Not everyone has to know what's going on. About the torment that I'm going through, the test to everything I've worked on myself in the last years.

The genius of a hole. No matter how long you climb up, you can still fall down in an instant.

I will fall. I am falling. That I don't deny, that I don't camouflage. I'm aware, conscious if it most of the time, as a result of the work I put into this - not to be better than the rest, but to be coherent with my self. Trying to. Failing. And that failure is the key. Either grab a brush, hide it and pretend it to fade away.

Or own it.

In front of my close friends. Family. And the unlucky few who dare to read my random posts. It's in crisis when you notice the progress you've made. So far, I'm good. I do notice that I regressed. I lash out, snarky comments, less patience, other kinds of behavior that I don't want to be me, that I've been working on so long, trying to cause no unnecessary pain in the world.

I'm in crisis.

Once again. And that's okay. But not everyone has to know. Especially in a small town. I trim my "beard", arrange myself, put on some okay clothing, paste a smile and don't talk about it. I fake, in a way. And I don't, in another way.

I wanted to.

I don't like makeup. I never did. There's enough fake in the world. But I am a joker. I do know how to play the roles, I do know how to behave, how to pretend. And pasting substances on your face is not much different from pasting a smile on your face when engaging with those who have no relation to the torment you're facing.

Don't bother them.

Hold your ground. Put on that makeup. It's not their fault. It's your responsibility, not theirs, so pretend. And when you're exhausted, and can't take it anymore, can't play it anymore - that's okay. We all have our limits. Make up some excuse and seek refuge in those who love you, because they will be there for you.

Let no act be done without a purpose, nor otherwise than according to the perfect principles of art.
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4 Chapter 2

Makeup can have purpose. It's easy to despise it, easy to critique, easy to dismantle as the "oppression of XYZ over UVW". But that's not the whole story. Makeup is another layer. Another wall of security. It's not bad nor good. It just is necessary to the person that wears it. For whatever reason.

Don't judge the makeup.

Besides for being human we're generally terrible judges for a myriad of reasons. Don't judge anyone for wanting safety. Be kind enough to earn the trust so they show their real face, to you, because your a good person and you earned it. Be that person that gives them the strength, the self esteem to show their true face to the world and know it's beautiful. And don't care about judgement by those who don't share the same weighing of values.

We're all judged.

What are your thoughts about this topic? Please feel free to engage in any original way, including dropping links to your posts on similar topics. I'm happy to read (and curate) any quality content that is not created by LLM/AI.

Post written for the #weekend-engagement by @galenkp inviting us to answer selected questions in the Weekend Experiences community each week.