subject line: that damn smile. August 19, 2015 by Hannah Brencher boston, massachusetts I have it all together. Or so everyone tells me. They even go so far as to tell me they’re jealous of my perfection.My forty-hour-per-week dream job doing what I love and what my degree says I’m good at. My exceptionally handsome fiance who loves me deeper than the ocean. My love for heavenly things that keeps me grounded on earth. The prim, put-together self I always have when I walk out the door. My smile. That damn smile.It covers the pain I feel when I walk into meetings and sit on the sidelines because “You’re just...” It hides the internet history that undermined my degree and prevented graduation. It flourishes while my dream career lingers right beyond my fingertips. It shines on the man I love and hate in the same moment. It pastes itself across my face when all I want to do is scream out because I’m trapped in a city and a place that I don’t want to be in any more. It sparkles while my lips move through the motions as I sit dead in the pew on Sunday mornings. I’ve mastered that smile. That horrible band-aid that prevents the wounds from healing. I crush myself daily into the grind of being OK because of that smile. I’m not perfect, I’m a mess. But that smile. Oh that horrid smile that I’m so perfect at... I hate myself and the future I have being stuck in a white, glittering smile.