You Look Sad

“You look sad.”

Remember when you face yourself against a mirror and convinced that you, for all reason, look kinda okay today with the right hair and the right dress, and the camera proves you wrong in one snap? There must be a time in history where camera is dubbed as magic, and I can’t help to wonder what a pleasure it was for the agency in charge to create a campaign based on the idea; a box that seals your moment into eternity.

Yesterday I took a photo of mine in local photography service; a formal one, required for completing my thesis. This very photo will be everywhere on my graduation-related papers, and well aware I were I put a bit makeup on, did my hair, and all that sort of things. Not that the photo turned to be bad—it is okay, but I look sad, my friend said. A paradox starts to kick in and I begin to think that I look sadder the more I see it. I consider taking another one (hey, it will be everywhere), but then I thought, what if it’s just my face.

That day, I looked in the mirror and I’m convinced that I looked below my average. I even practiced the smile, because I usually smile with my teeth showed and this time I’m not allowed. When I met my friends, nobody questions any of my unexpected sadness because I made sure of it. Besides, we have so many stuffs to actually do lately with the thesis defense date approaching I nor my friends don’t really have the time to deal with this minor problem. This camera, though, ages later that we are so certain it is the lens plus running mechanical thing inside, still remembers how to put the revealing spell. It is magic, I’m telling you.

Funny how this sounds like I love camera so much (“it is magic I’m telling you”), because I’ve never been a picture tells a thousand words kind of people. Well, if any it only makes me hate it. Things hidden for a reason, whether fat belly or sadness. Revealing it doesn’t make you wrong, only asshole. Of course there are things like big lies and corruption for God’s sakes that need to be dug, but don’t you start throwing those at me. Fat belly doesn’t equal corruption, and sadness is not a lie. This sadness, once revealed, makes people treat you either with so much sympathy you feel utterly pathetic or nothing-happened-everything-is-normal act you begin to question if they care. Of course it is nobody’s fault because you are one twisted, indecisive sad mind you don’t know what do you want from the others. In this whole don’t know period, my theory add, the loop with people unbeknown of it makes you believe that you can be happy somewhere, somehow, and I think it is important to finally accept your grief and move on. So yes, I don’t know how posting your feelings in social media helps, but maybe you are a fan of this camera spell.

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I look sad, because I am sad. So the goal in the next photo-session (if any) is not to look happy, but to hide my sadness better—setting the goal right is essential I once read in some self-help book I didn’t buy.

x, Michelle