A Game of Society

In a world of nothing, we are all told to be something. But what can that something be when the world is nothing and I, in it, am nothing as well? ‘Make the best of a bad situation’, that is what we are told… why not change the situation? Why try to best the odds of a world that is not worth living in, when all you need to do is change the game.

Why is it that all these phrases are brought into our everyday lives with little to no expectation to change the world? Take me for example, following the rising torments of a job that is worthless to everyone. Or is it nothing but essential when you are trapped in a world of misery and spite, that you need a clown, you need someone else to make you happy, laugh… just at the expense of their own self-deprecation. That’s what I am… is it not? A punchline to a joke that is lost in the world, just as we all are. But still, here I am… sitting in the same chair, in the same place, staring at the same person. Maybe if I force a smile it will be more worth it? That’s what they say, a smile can fill a room with joy… but what if that smile is fake, nothing but a mask of emotion to cover what is destroying you from inside.

A mask that is expected, told to be the only thing you need to do. Just fake it till you make it, right? That’s what I did and look where it got me, in a room full of people and I’m the clown. I’m the clown sitting in a chair, trying to force a smile for others. Stuck in the same place of torment that they all are in but trapped beneath society’s mask of ‘happiness’. Presenting a front to us all, because I’m sure only those society cares about get to smile, and laugh and be joyous. Not us clowns, stuck as the odd ones out because we are different. Not the same.

Societies outcasts are what we are, the ones who do not conform to their standards. The ones left behind and forgotten about when the leaders and wealthy gather, they think of only themselves and not of us who need everything. Looking at myself in the mirror I can see nothing but the failure of what I could have been, a failure of those around me. A clown who cannot smile, a clown that does not instil happiness, a clown who cannot tell a joke to get a laugh, a clown who is a failure. Even as I look at myself I cannot think of what to do other than force myself to smile, but even that does not work with me. A forced smile should bring some joy but it merely comes out as a grimace. All the makeup in the world couldn’t create a mask for the broken fragments of what is supposed to be me. Each piece of makeup wipes away a piece of who I was, or who I should be. Each performance creates a part of me that is foreign, unknown.

Sitting here, I realise it is not foreign to society, it is part of the mask and game that they all play. A game where they forgot to hand out the rules, a game where we are not allowed to play. A game where society wins and everyone else loses. A game where a broken smile is better than no smile at all.