In life there are looks. A look of love and affection can make a weak man’s heart swell, whereas a look of mischief can stir feelings of excitement. A look of deceit is a warning, whereas a look of anger can declare the dark secrets of the heart. For every emotion there is a look. Every gaze tells a story. There is a look which defies words. It declares a sense of longing, though it is not a longing of physical love nor is it a declaration of evil intent. It simply states, I no longer want to be a part of humanity. Instead, I want to leave this mortal coil and walk beyond the stars. At times, people we feel great fondness towards possess this look. It can be scary when we notice this look in friends and family’s eyes. After all, it is a look of death.
We all have an expiration date, and the sands of time seem to move more swiftly as we age. Some people live in fear of the day when the Reaper harvests our eternal soul. Others look forward to the end, because only the dead have no worries. Whichever fits your perspective, the end will come when it is time. Rather than focus on the grand finale, I would rather spend my time creating a life that will leave the scribes unable to find the words to put on my headstone. A life well lived is the best way to stave off the look for home.
Body language exists, thus, it makes sense our looks would send unspoken messages. Sometimes, we share the same message. For instance, if two people dislike the same person, they may share a look when the object of their dislike starts to speak. Looks help us communicate when words fail to express the deepest reaches of the heart. Therefore, looks are a vital part of communication.
Looks informed me that my marriage was over. Well, perhaps I should state the message was delivered via spoken and unspoken communique. When the line of spoken communication breaks down, looks are the only way to express our desire to make things right, or to end something to save our sanity. Our hearts often carry heavy weights, and because of this, words sometimes refuse to come out. When I was in Iraq, after fighting in Fallujah, I was angry. Words were choked in my throat by the fiery grip of rage. As I struggled to understand my own heart, I was drowning in darkness. Given the inability to express my heart, I walked outside. The look on my face sent the message I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone’s stupidity.
It was after this point in my life, that smiling became a chore. To this day, I find it hard to smile. Sure, I have plenty to smile about, however, memories of this day haunt me even now. At times, I dream of looks I gave while serving in Iraq. There will never come a day when they fade away. To the day I die, these memories will continue to play in the theater of my mind.
It’s all about the looks.
26 September 2019