the best i can give you is a fake smile and dead eyes

there are days when the world expects you to show up in ways that you just can’t. you know those days—the ones where every interaction feels like an act, where you’re putting on a show for everyone around you, and all the while, you feel like you’re crumbling inside. yet, you muster up a smile, a gesture of good cheer, because that’s what’s expected of you. it’s easier that way, to let people see what they want to see: the fake smile. but if they look closely, if they care to really see, they’d notice the dead eyes—the ones that tell a different story.

i’ve gotten good at the fake smile. it’s a reflex at this point, one of those learned behaviours that becomes so second nature you don’t even realize you’re doing it. someone asks how you’re doing, and without missing a beat, you flash a smile and say, “i’m good! how about you?” it's the safe answer, the socially acceptable response. the truth, though, is that i’m far from good. but who wants to hear that? and honestly, who has the energy to explain? so, i give them what they expect, and in return, they move on with their day, none the wiser. it’s a quiet transaction, a mutual understanding that no one digs too deep.

it’s not that i don’t want to be honest. in fact, i crave honesty, to drop the facade and let people in on what’s really going on. but we live in a world that doesn’t make room for that kind of vulnerability, at least not all the time. vulnerability is selective—it’s reserved for close friends, family, maybe a therapist if you’re lucky enough to have one. but the daily grind, the surface-level interactions? those are reserved for the smile, the one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

why do we feel the need to hide our struggles, to mask our pain? why do we reserve our most authentic selves for behind closed doors, when in reality, we’re all fighting our own battles?

i think part of it is survival. we live in a fast-paced world that doesn’t have time for pauses or breakdowns. there’s always something to be done, always someone who needs something from you. we can’t afford to stop and wallow in our pain, so we do what we have to: we put on the mask, we push forward, and we keep moving. it’s not about deceit; it’s about making it through the day without falling apart.

but the longer you wear the mask, the more it becomes a part of you. it’s a strange thing, the way emotional numbness can sneak up on you. at first, it’s just a way to cope, a way to get through the tough moments without breaking down. but eventually, it seeps into everything. you start feeling less and less, until one day, you realize you’re not just pretending to be okay—you genuinely don’t feel much of anything anymore.

that’s the part no one really talks about: how the fake smile and the dead eyes go hand in hand. the smile is the outward performance, but the dead eyes? that’s the soul’s quiet resignation, the sign that you’ve stopped hoping anyone will really see you. you’ve stopped expecting to be understood because, more often than not, people don’t want to see what’s beneath the surface. they want the easy answer. and so, you give them what they want.

i’ve had moments—fleeting ones—where i let the mask slip. maybe it’s with a close friend, or in a late-night conversation when the walls come down and the truth spills out. in those moments, i feel raw, exposed. there’s something both terrifying and relieving about it. terrifying, because being vulnerable means handing someone the power to hurt you. relieving, because for once, you don’t have to pretend. you can let out the heavy sigh you’ve been holding in for weeks and admit, “i’m not okay.” but those moments are rare, and they don’t last long. eventually, the walls go back up, the smile returns, and you carry on.

the truth is, the fake smile isn’t always a bad thing. sometimes, it’s a necessary part of life. there are days when you have to show up, even when you don’t feel like it. you have to be functional, productive, and present, even when your heart isn’t in it. the smile is your armour, your way of signalling to the world that you’re still here, even if you’re not fully okay. and that’s okay. we can’t always be open books, and we shouldn’t have to be. there’s value in maintaining some level of privacy, in choosing when and with whom to share your deepest struggles.

but there’s a fine line between using the smile as a tool and letting it become a permanent fixture. the danger comes when the mask takes over, when you forget what it feels like to be real with people. that’s when the dead eyes set in, when the numbness takes root, and suddenly, you’re going through life on autopilot. i’ve been there, and it’s a lonely place to be. the world around you keeps moving, but you feel disconnected from it all, like you’re watching from behind a glass wall.

sometimes i wonder what it would be like if we all dropped the act. what if, just for one day, we stopped smiling when we didn’t feel like it? what if we let our faces show what we were really feeling, even if that meant looking sad, or angry, or tired? would the world stop spinning? probably not. in fact, i imagine there’d be a strange kind of solidarity in it, knowing that we’re all walking around with our own burdens, that none of us are as put-together as we appear. maybe we’d finally start to see each other, not just as the polished versions we present to the world, but as the messy, complicated, human beings we truly are.

but that’s not how the world works, is it? we live in a society that prizes positivity, that tells us to “fake it till we make it.” and so, we keep smiling, keep pretending, because that’s what’s expected of us. we save our real selves for the rare moments when we feel safe enough to let them out, and the rest of the time, we give people the version of ourselves they want to see.

source

the best i can give you is a fake smile and dead eyes. it’s not because i don’t care, or because i don’t want to be real with you. it’s because that’s all i have the energy for right now. the fake smile is the easiest way to get through the day, to keep the questions at bay, to avoid the uncomfortable conversations that i’m not ready to have. the dead eyes? well, they’re just the result of trying to hold it all together for too long. they’re a reflection of the parts of me that are worn out, that have been buried under layers of expectation and self-protection.

but every now and then, when the timing is right, i hope i’ll have the courage to drop the mask. to let the smile fade and let the truth come through my eyes. maybe not for everyone, but for the people who matter. the ones who will see the dead eyes and not look away. the ones who will understand that behind the fake smile is someone who’s doing their best, even when it doesn’t feel like enough.

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