Smiling is Suspicious
I absolutely LOVE this week’s Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: DNA! It hits my sweet spot! Choosing what to write when there is so much from which to choose and which I could write… here’s what I chose:
Smiling is Suspicious
Someone – a beautiful soul on Twitter – said to me recently that they didn’t think that I was used to smiling. They made me smile and this made them smile.
They read my blog, so they might read this.
I always smile, a private inside smile, when someone admits to reading my blog. It surprises me. Sometimes it makes me want to run away and hide. That reaction makes me laugh at myself, I enjoy laughing at myself. Laughing at myself inspires so many inside smiles!
Why does it surprise me when someone reads my blog? How much mortal time do you have for me to explain that. And that is the explanation. The time out of your mortal life which you take to read about my mortal life which I express on my blog touches me deeply. I don’t always show it because…
Showing your emotions in my family was dangerous. Your real emotions. They could be used against you. Showing false emotions could be used against them. Enter the smile…
Smiling was a weapon of great power.
Smile when someone hurts you and you confound them. Why are you smiling when they want you to cry for mercy? Smile again. Bit by bit your smile destroys them… they thought they could destroy you, they were sorely mistaken. Smile.
I don’t like smiling… externally. Internally I smile all the time. People often miss those smiles. My humour is deadpan, but it is constant. I prefer deadpan humour, it makes me laugh, and that laughter ripples through my body. It is very pleasurable.
I laugh inside because it makes me feel good and it gets me through life. A heightened sense of humour is my most valued survival tool.
I prefer internal smiles to external ones. Internal smiles are real, external ones are just muscles moving.
I do smile externally, but that is for the benefit of others. I can’t see my face, they can. They see a smile as an expression of happiness. They need my face to be happy whether I am happy or not. My face affects them, it does not affect me.
I don’t need to see my face. I don’t need an external smile or frown to know how I am feeling, or how that facial expression affects me. I know how I am feeling without seeing my face.
My mother thought my smile was inherited from my father. She hated my smile, it reminded her of him. My father thought my smile was inherited from my mother. He hated my smile. It reminded him of her. They hated each other, yet loved each other.
You hate what you love and love what you hate.
My smile belongs to me. It took me a long time to figure that out. It always seemed to belong to others, and others seemed to agree with that. But that is an illusion.
My smile is a weapon. I am at my most dangerous when I smile… externally. It is a warning. In nature, in the animal kingdom, a smile is the baring of teeth, the raising of hackles. It is for me. My biggest and brightest external smiles are reserved for those whom I am about to eat.
My ancestors were not a smiling bunch.
My father hails from a part of the world where smiling is suspicious. You only smile in the face of someone whom you are about to stab in the back. His particular tribe don’t need a reason for backstabbing, they have a knife and you have a back… that’s about it reason wise. The smile is to fool you. You who place so much trust in smiles.
My mother hails from a part of the world where you kill others with kindness, and smile politely while doing so. Teeth are used for gritting the roads in Winter. That thing you think is a smile is grim determination.
If my parents smiled at you… you were in trouble. If they didn’t smile at you… you were in trouble. The smile meant they were about to use you, manipulate and abuse you. The non-smile meant they were annoyed because you could not be used, manipulated or abused… and they were trying to figure out a way around that.
If I smile at you… ask yourself this:
1. Are my teeth showing?
If no, then it’s probably a real smile. My most genuine smiles are the most subtle externally, but the most vibrant internally.
If yes… is it because I am laughing?
If yes, then it is genuine, but it’s not a smile, it is laughter.
If no, then… it is a warning. I am either about to eat you… or I am doing it because I know you need the external display of a smile. In either case, I’m probably not smiling inside.
If you’re still unsure, look at my eyes, they are the most expressive part of me. My mother thought my eyes were my father’s, my father… well he probably thought they were his too, he didn’t like looking into them because they saw him, not what he wanted them to see.
If my eyes are sparkling, you’re in trouble… because I love you.