Smiles and Tears
By Elaine Gao, 16, Oklahoma
I’ve forgotten how to smile.
My muscles get cramped after too many pretenses.
It’s easier to just loosen the upward tension.
My face can fall, like weary bricks,
liberated from upholding their sorry facade.
For once, I’m allowed to break,
to scream, a perfect deliverance.
I’ve forgotten how to smile.
I can still wear a mask, a manicured smile.
The nude lipstick holds it in place: a perfect lady, a dainty doll.
I was told that a hearty laugh has no manners,
but composure made me a grown-up child.
I’ve forgotten how to smile.
How do you expect me to when you do not?
Though we were born from the same womb, you harbor only jealousy.
I vainly fly for the canopy, out of your gloom, into the sky,
but you grasped onto my heel and pulled me down into your coffin.
And you wonder why I’ve changed.
My fake smiles are gone, replaced with scowls and hollering.
I’ve forgotten how to smile.
As you, careless and reckless, waltz with death;
When you break me and Mom like we can be patched up later.
Ever since you struck yourself with that stupid rubber band.
Ever since you ventured to the middle of the road, just to make a statement.
I hate those who cry.
Tears became their defense against their own sentimental mind.
A sob, a sniffle, a welling of moisture seek to incriminate.
Those who rein in their tears.
You weep copiously, yet you weep for ulterior reasons,
so who’d believe that you were truly heartbroken?
Still, it takes but a single drop.
And then you are the poor girl bullied and I the bully.
I hate those who cry.
Powerless to accept a duel of honor.
Why does weakness gather supporters wherever it goes?
Their vulnerability performance requires an actor’s control,
A hacker’s ease to photoshop yourself onto the victim card,
so that I was the prisoner flogged for how kindly I scold.
I hate those who cry.
They are riddled with bullet holes, empty without strongholds.
They let their tears turn from a trickle into a deluge,
propelling waves to the gates of their enemies.
If they were the flood’s first victims,
then they must drag others to join them in the underworld.
I hate those who cry.
Especially when you use your breakdowns to judge me.
Your absurd accusations — that I got angry,
that I yelled at you, that I made you live in fear—
lack any evidence, but your tears make up the ethos and pathos
And Mom can’t always be an impartial judge,
especially when you have been the sick daughter
for the last forty-eight months.
Smiles and tears—
They do not indicate happiness or sadness, for people aren’t honest.
They can smile a million sunshines and still weep within.
They can weep for hours just as an outlet for their repulsive wrath.
I smile; I cry. Sometimes; sometimes not.
What does it mean? Nothing, nothing at all.
Though it is meaningless,
I still have a fancy for what I’ve forgotten,
not what I’ve grown to hate.
I still wish to see myself smile.
I still wish to see you smile.
As my twin sister struggled with anorexia and depression, both of our lives were thrown into disarray. Amidst this chaos, I was forced to isolate my frustration towards her from my love, but most of the time, it’s an impossible process to maintain a rational mind. This poem is more of a reminder to myself that despite many of her changed behaviors, I still love her.
Instagram: @authorelainegao
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