Today, for what may be the first time in my life, I genuinely felt sorry for someone. I saw a man standing outside a deli today, thumbing through lottery tickets. The left side of the man's face was normal, but most of the right side was horribly disfigured. His right eye was about three inches lower than the left, like some sort of real-life Picasso painting. His cheek drooped down in what I can only describe as sheets, like wax dripping down a candle. The cheek ended about two inches past the chin in large, bulbous tissue formations. The whole right side of his face looked a melted wax figure.
Whenever I see someone with such a disfigurement, it makes me wonder what their life must be like. How do you function in society when people find themselves unable to look upon you? Wouldn't being around people constantly remind you of your deformity?
Apparently the man is well-known around my town. Many just refer to him as 'the Face.' Something about that sickens me. I wonder how the Faces and the John Merricks of the world maintain the courage to keep going. I know I sure wouldn't be able to.
I felt angry towards myself as well, because when I saw the Face, the only thing I could think after the initial disgust was "Heeeey, you guuuuuys!" How is it that I can be so cruel without trying?
There are many things about the world, I find, that I don't understand. I'm not sure I like that.
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