I still hear their voices ringing in my head. "Why don't you smile anymore? You had such a nice smile, how come we don't see it more often?" The volume reaches levels that make me stop what I'm doing and just hold my head.
They can say those things, because they don't live in the same world as me. One where insanity seems to have the place of rational thinking and all of the psychotics are in control of every facet that rules our everyday living.
I can't say for certain what bore this madness, but I know it was birthed and matured in a single instant. Its afterbirth washed over the streets and alleyways infecting the minds of the inhabitants, driving them wild. It's no longer safe to walk about outside. Too many knives hidden under sleeves. Too many guns tucked in belts. Too much bad intent, driven by fear, pushing us to do things we normally wouldn't.
My mind flashes back to the present moment and the mirror that catches my image. I dip my brush in the paint and begin to cover my face with a thick coat of color. White all over, a little red, add a little blue, some green in the hair, a nice big smile and I'm finished.
A new face for a new me, while my mind drags up an old memory from a program I used to watch as a child. "All the world's a joke and punchline is to be, told by the joker and the Joker is me."