His face paint was smudged; an exotic mess of white, blue, yellow and green thrown into disarray. Years of wear and tear, lacrimation or a disproportionate combination of both. His tried eyes stared into the ageing mirror, and the clown on the other side did the same. Where, oh where to go from here? How the winds of time have weathered you, my friend. He tried to smile, but merely a tight lipped whimper was produced. This couldn’t be it.
“So what are you, really?”
He saw it coming. but as always, failed to conjure up a meaningful reply to it.
“No answer, again? Pity. This could very well be our last encounter, you know.”
He thought about it for a little more, and with a sigh that betrayed his thoughts, mumbled, “What do you want?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that instead? What do YOU want? What façades have you hidden behind from all these years? Let’s see, Dr. Adams? Alan Parrish? Mrs. Doubtfire? Dr. Maguire? Prof. Brainard? These ring a bell?”
He hung his head, as if embarrassed. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, as he fought to remember the reasons for his actions. He remembered the pool of faces who laughed along with him; of infectious laughter and tears of joy, each face an individualistic exhibition that only grew with time. In that pool was your face, your face, your face, and mine. Thoughts intertwined, humour and pain both shared in a melting pot of legacy and unbridled joy.
He too, remembered the burdens and messages he carried. The Windfall Foundation, Comic Relief and his daughter, his very own Princess Zelda. Soon though, he would leave his last message and the battle which he would unfortunately lose; Depression.
What did he become though? He had become a beacon of joy, hope and laughter for those who were fortunate enough to witness his performances and insights. He loved the world and the people around him, and though the voices in his head told him otherwise, the world loved him too, more credit than he gave himself for. He was sure of it. That was all he needed to know really. He smiled – an actual one this time – and closed his eyes for good. His head hung to the side, his arms dropped and went limp while the air stiffened as a final tear-drop made its way to the hardwood floor, carrying with it the inexplicable mixture of white, blue, yellow and green, and there in its new form, will lay to rest for eternity.
*Comedians choose to make the world laugh when they cannot laugh for themselves. See you in Neverland.*