petals for armor || paramore oneshots

fake happy

keep smiling.

punk is a style where you can get away with looking a bit dishevelled. maybe i could still make that work as a 30-year-old singer of a band formerly emo in the 2000s who lost fans as soon as we grew up and decided to move on from pop punk. we already learned we can't please the world, so i'll just wake up being whoever hayley is. the mirror doesn't usually lie. most mirrors don't. and right now, this one is telling me i look like i'm in the business of misery. time to plaster my fake smile all over me and tell the world i'm okay. be ready to help the other people out there, because even if i can't fix myself, at least i can make everyone else feel okay, right? because the makeup, however, does lie. a bit of concealer here, and you'd never know that there were eye bags underneath. a bit of overlining on the lips, and you'd never know that i was pouting. a bit of foundation and contour here, and you'd never know how dull my skin was underneath. words can also lie. you can just say you're fine. nothing about those words say otherwise. for one day, for one fucking day, i hope that i can wake up and go out feeling truly okay. why is everyone else happy and i'm not? how happy are they, really?

keep smiling.

today's distraction from all the misery in the world is lunch with an old friend. apparently, the café has a lot of tasty vegan options. it's nice that i can still protect wildlife while supporting local businesses in nashville, who are probably just trying to get through the day and take care of themselves and their families, but there's no hiding if you love or hate your job. i turn off the engine around the corner from the café so i can hide for a moment and slouch into my seat as the smiley-face air freshener pleads for my attention in the corner of my eye. at some point, you get desperate enough to make people think you're doing fine that you find the most bizarre ways to show it. like air fresheners or bumper stickers. i climb out of my car and keep my chin up while i make my way to the humble café welcoming sunlight in through its boastful tall windows and as i wait outside for her to arrive, i brush the bleached blonde hair out my face and the sun has an obligation to fulfil of beaming down on me and making me put my shades on, saving me from having her see the misery behind these eyes before i have a chance to fix it and turn the frown upside-down. like right now.
"hayley!" she grabs me into a hug that feels sincere enough for me to commit to it too.
"oh, hi!" time to escape life for a few hours while i get lost in socialisation.
"i haven't seen you in forever, i've missed you! how are you doing?" i could go a bit longer without you though.
"hey i'm good!" i've never been worse.
"aw that's good, you look well." i barely slept the other night.
"yeah, never been better!" i felt better maybe 10 years ago.

keep smiling.

it's hard being a frontwoman of a band in a male-dominated rock scene. because you're the face of the band and the one who gets to take up the whole stage singing and dancing and jumping around and getting fans to participate too, never mind the rest of the band. especially when you're the only woman in the band, you're the only one who needs her hair and makeup done and it makes you seem like the most high-maintenance person around. the guys are so easy, they just throw on a t-shirt and jeans and play their instruments. meanwhile, i'm getting pampered by a stylist, hairstylist, chiropractor, therapist, and everyone else who helps me to fix my problems, with the cherry on the cake being the photographer who has to capture us in our best light. people from within and outwith the industry love to pick you apart in a way that they wouldn't do to others. especially not to men. of course, we have fans who are the best fans we could ever imagine, but what cuts right through them is the criticism of weird, bored people who'll comment on anything they can find. after several years of being on the scene, i might've just about seen it all. comments on appearances, relationships, our music, you name it. political views, social media presence, your age, your personality, your voice, should i go on? but as the frontwoman, i have to be the bigger person and maintain my dignity all through this. you have a record label that you can't let down. you have bandmates that you can't let down. it's fucking exhausting that i still have to go out every day and play for big audiences and pretend everything's okay, no matter how far from the truth that may be. even if it means drinking your feelings away. even if it means taking pills to numb yourself out.

keep smiling.

it's always the same. now i have to write lyrics that lets people know i'm okay. but i'm not very good at pretending, so i need extra help writing a song about the joys of life. i start to hum something to myself about smiling and being happy, but i can't tell everyone who thinks i look happy that it's just makeup and actually, there's a girl inside who wants to die. if you force enough energy into your smile, you can make it look real enough for people leave you alone and stop caring about you. it's enough for them to channel all their energy into being fake happy too, and they're probably smart enough to have figured out by now that it's futile trying to cheer up another person who will just pretend that they're okay just to shut them up (or because they feel like they're being a burden, because they're also exhausted). yes, it is a vicious cycle that all the positivity advocates and mental health advocates in the world couldn't fix. i'll just keep taking my vitamins and drinking my tea first thing in the morning to feel okay. one fucking day.

keep smiling.

i love making you believe that what you get is what you see

and i'm so fake happy... feel so fake happy...

and i bet everybody here is just as insincere

we're all so fake happy... and i know fake happy...

see, i've been doing a good job of making them think

i'm quite alright, better hope i don't blink

you see, it's easy when i'm stomping on a beat

but no-one sees me when i crawl back underneath

hey, if i smile with my teeth, bet you'd believe me

if i smile with my teeth, think i'd believe me

oh, please, don't ask me how i've been, don't make me play pretend, oh, no

oh, what's the use?

oh, please, i bet everybody here is fake happy too

if i go out tonight, dress up my fears

you think i look alright with these mascara tears?

see, imma draw my lipstick wider than my mouth

and if the lights are low, they'll never see me frown

[...]

i know i said that i was doing good and that i'm happy now

i should've known when things were going good, that's when i'd get knocked down...

[...]