My name is Azalea and I have thousands of faces.

I am a boy, a girl, a woman, a man. Sometimes, I am an old lady, other times a child.

I own thousands of dresses, clothes, shoes, eyeglasses, neckties; however, there is only one thing I do not own and that is an ID. I have yet to own an ID. How could I if my face changes everyday? Yes, that is right, my face changes everyday. Literally.

My face changes everyday that even my own parents cannot recognize me anymore. Even I cannot recognize me anymore.

My identity changed since the day I turned 18, my becoming day. I do not know how I ended up having a different face that morning, how I turned from a teen to a middle aged man, but ever since then, I keep changing faces, bodies, identities.

I tried looking for an answer. Everyday, I would go to the public library and research, my table full of mountains and mountains of books. Thick books, thin books, old books, new books. Science books, medical books, history books, mythology books. All these books yet I made no progress.

Every evening, before I go to sleep, I take a video of myself talking about what happened that day. Every video, a different person talks in front of the camera yet it is still me. I record them to keep track of the faces I had since then.

One day, when I turned 22, I realized my face changes to a new face but never the same face twice. This made a big leap on my research. However, as soon as I realized this, my hope ended just as fast. That day, I decided to stop searching for answers and just accept my fate. An ill fate that has gotten me nothing but downs and disappointments.

You might think that I am lucky to have this ability, this “power.” That I could do whatever I want, any crimes would be possible to perform, that it would lead me untraceable, invincible. I would not call this a power but a curse. A curse that would not let me communicate with people in long terms. I long for a person to love me for who I truly am. For what I am. I long for a long term relationship that would lead me to a happy life I always dream of when I was a kid. However, if my parents do not accept me, threw me away as if I am an alien, and decided to start anew, how could someone accept me then? A stranger even? If it weren’t for my friend, a person whom I truly trust and trust me in return, I would have ended my life.

Yes, at least one Good Samaritan decided to stay with me, laugh with me, cry with me. He is my friend, my best friend in this life. I love him as much as he loves me. As a friend, a best friend. I was scared to tell him at first, afraid that he would turn against me like my family did, but I did it anyways. I have nothing to lose, not anymore now that my parents abandoned me. He stared at me as if I was speaking an unknown language, but then he laughed. Laughed as if there is no tomorrow. He wiped a tear from his eyes and said, “Good one, child,” and then he laughed some more. I understood how he reacted that time. I mean I was in a six-year-old’s body, why would anyone take a child’s words seriously? I puffed out my cheeks and spilled some of his deepest, darkest secrets that only the two of us know. That stopped him. He looked at me in a new light and started crying. He hugged me until we dropped on the floor and I cried along with him. That day, I shared him how it all started, how everything went wrong. At least that day, something good happened.

“So, if you turned into a beautiful lady with a smokin’ hot bod, would you go out with me?” he asked teasingly.

I smacked his shoulder playfully. “Gross!”

And then we laughed, the stains of tears now gone and replaced with loud, echoing laughter that must have woken up nearby neighbors.

“But seriously, would you?”

 

**

 

I stared at the person sleeping beside me, his face clear of any tiredness attained the other day. I giggled, he looks like a baby. I caressed his face, slowly moving my hand so he doesn’t wake up. So innocent and pure, like his heart. I stood up and walked toward the bathroom. I guess I’m an old woman today, huh, I sighed. Opening the faucet, I washed my face and stared at the mirror. In front of me, an old woman stared back, its eyes full of life despite its old age. Then, it smiled as if to say, “Everything is going to be alright.”

An arm s around her waist and I turned around, surprised to see my husband gleaming up behind me. “’Sup, beautiful?”

I rolled my eyes, “Stop teasing. Look at me, my face is sagging and my skin is all wrinkly. How is that beautiful?”

He nuzzled his nose against my wrinkly neck, “It’s because it’s you, my queen. Do I need other reasons?”

I snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He stopped moving and moved his face away where he can see mine, “Az, we talked about this. Whether you’re a guy or a smelly old woman, I will always love you. I always love you. And nothing, not even your snarky nagging can change that. And besides, we’ve been together for what, 20 years now?”

“21. We’ met when we were 6,” I answered.

“Exactly. You cry, I comfort. You cook, I eat. You poop, you flush.”

“Hey! You’re ruining the moment,” I chuckled, nonetheless.

“What? You’re not expecting me to flush your own poop, do you?” He asked innocently. This guy….

“Fine. You pay your own gas, got it?” I sashayed out of the bathroom and proceeded to the kitchen to cook breakfast. What shall I cook, pancakes or toast?

“Honey! I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ll flush your poop later, okay?” He chased after me and begged like a puppy.

I shushed him, “Don’t talk about poop while I’m doing breakfast.”

“But Sweetcakes…”

I turned around and gave him a quick peck on his cheeks, “I’ll think about it. Now go set the table and be a good sport.”

He pouted, “Yes, grandma.”

I shook my head in disbelief. And to think he matured over the years. How mature.

 

**

 

Yes, you guessed it. Turns out my best friend and I did end up marrying each other despite his childish attitudes. He confessed first, of course. He chased around me like a cute puppy until I finally gave up and said “Yes.” I mean, who would accept him if not me, right? And same goes to me. We do not know how my case will end or if it will ever end. All we know is that we should just live the moment to the fullest.

How will we have kids? That I don't know, but for now, let me just cook breakfast for my loving husband. He gets cranky if he doesn't get to eat. I think I am already raising a kid. My dear husband.

“You liar. You said I was the one who chased you. It was you who can’t live without me,” he looked at me smugly.

“Oh, shush you.”

“And by the way, you're still paying for my gas, right?”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Whatever.” I looked at the camera and said my last goodbyes, “For now, the unknown case of my childish husband still lies uncovered. Until next time. This is Azalea—“

“—And this is her very mature husband, not Noh Seongwoo, not Woo Seongwoo, and definitely not Song Seongwoo. But Ong. Seong. Woo.”

“Signing off.”