This Love Is Fake

I looked into the blurry eyes of my reflection and loathed the person I had become. But it was more so towards the snakes who made me this way. The wide and murky sea stretched itself towards the horizon, peering over the edge for an end that didn’t exist. Within it, I also searched for something unknown with a lidded stare. But there were no thoughts that came to me as I gazed upon the starless night sky. 

I found out the hard way how the world was revolted by the idea of change. Even if I felt as though I was loved by my fans, I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised how those fakes rejected me with little hesitation. The helping hands I trusted so much blew down my walls and tore away my eyes as if I were nothing and would forever be nothing. 

My life was practically over in a matter of minutes and I could do nothing to stop it. I realised then how truly cruel society is. Living was not so easy and I was foolish to have thought that way. As if I were a bird trapped in a cage, the key to my success was stolen and thrown into dark waters with no regret. Unable to escape the glares upon its tiny figure, the bird’s exhausted wings of passion were now clipped with snares called failure by the very same people who taught it to fly. 

Like so many others in this industry, I couldn’t get enough of being in front of the camera. It was my dream and main purpose in my now miserable life. To have the opportunity to be on the big screen; it was more than I could have ever wished for. But there were those who pretended to love me and my work. They were only deceitful snakes, wanting nothing but the fame I gained. Tying me down with unbreakable chains, they stole the riches I worked hard for. Or perhaps the naive me turned a blind eye to their trickery. 

Touching the distorted face of my reflection, it rippled and floated away with the waves - even the mirrored version of myself has abandoned me. I once longingly reached out my hand for someone who would hold it. Now there is no one there to grip onto it anymore. It’s pitiful. I guess there is nothing left for me now that I finally know no one ever really cared about me. 

Those hands that used to guide my wings of freedom now cover the unreachable sky I called hope. Their hateful words weighed my mind down and the shadows of the past now haunt the realm beneath my eyelids. It was like waking up from a dream I never wanted to end, for in the living world, there was nowhere to turn - no one to hold. 

The movies I starred in, the laughs I had produced and all those I have kissed. It was all for naught, it didn’t matter. The beast I knew as time hunted me down with a hunger in his cunning eyes because its treasure I tried to steal, the hourglass full of sand, taunted me everywhere I went. I should've never loved it - should’ve never tried to. 

A flash. Then the shutter of a camera. Another and another. Faster this time. Until all I could see and hear were very things that led to my downfall. A flash and a click.

“Isn’t that person a famous actor?” One of them whispered.

“Don’t you know?” Another said back, “It’s the actor that went coo-coo in the head a few months back. No one knows why but there’s rumours.”

“What kind of rumours?” The first asked.

A third one responded, voice all too familiar, “Drugs.”

It was within the glass jar of lies that the flower grew with prideful petals, only for it to wither and disappear as it was soon despised. Wanting only to bloom, it did no wrong. But the world would not accept an imperfect being in the spotlight. 

No one wanted a potential druggie in their film. It would only get bad reviews from the general public and the media would never give it a break. My life as an actor was over. No movies to an actor meant no work. And no work meant no money. The things I had thought were mine are now lost. Never to get it back, I could only accept this fate of mine.

My teacher once said to me, “What’s the point of Valentine’s Day? If you are going to love someone, why not love them everyday?” I saw her point and I found it sad how my peers didn’t understand my teacher’s point of view.

I was angry and sad and confused. And, when time passed, I grew to not mind this life as I was now used to it. How pitiful this state of mine is. No one to love and no one who loved. The love was not there, it was fake, and I was sick of it.

The lights, the cameras and the sound of the director’s “action!” was something I missed. But now I can’t remember how it felt to act, to be filmed and to be loved. It was foolish, it really was. But as those shutters clicked and clicked, lights blinking on and off as it was night, I loathed myself more than those people. And I loathed those flashing lights more than myself.

Oh, how I hate this disgusting idea of love.