No one understands Blair Waldorf like I do.
No one understands the pain beneath the mask; the kindness beneath the anger, or the quiet envy of her best friend. No one knows the little girl inside of her that yearns for attention from her very inattentive mother. No one knows she places her delicate finger down her throat after every "meal", secretly trying to achieve a body she doesn't know she already has.
I do.
She doesn't know the battles I had with myself to keep from feeling the way I do. The warnings I didn't tell her of her Prince Charming. I couldn't tell her that Nate never could love her like he does her best friend; that he only settled for her because she was naïve, easy to get. She didn't know that while she was angry her best friend had abandoned her over a year ago, that he was silently praying to God every night she would return to his arms. She doesn't know that he didn't need her then, doesn't need her now, and never will need her like she needed him.
I do.
I didn't know she would fall for me so hard. I didn't know I would fall for her as well. But if we had gotten together before she left that summer, if I had rode with her on that plane across the country, everything would change. Change scared me. It's not something Bass men are used to. We get money, spend money, and have numerous girls and unimportant meetings, and do the very same thing the next day. After awhile every girl and every city, state and country feels the same. That is until Victrola. Blair has never been just another girl to me, and when she let herself go that night, I lost control. I wanted her. I needed her. And when she didn't tell me no when I asked if she was sure, I knew things would be different. So I went with the flow, opened my heart slowly to her, until Bart reminded me how much things would change. He was proud I was going to settle down, and in his own way was letting me know he was happy for me. But it scared me to death. I was only 17. I wasn't ready to settle down. So I didn't show up to meet Blair, and instead slept with the first woman I saw. I didn't know that I would regret that decision for the rest of my life. I didn't know every day apart from her, the more I would fall.
But I do now.
Not many people know that I do indeed have a heart, especially when it comes to those I care about. Not many people know I drank myself nearly to death because it hurt too much to be from her. Not many people know that it hurt me beyond words when she came back with that Prince Boring or whoever he was, and hurt me even more when she pretended not to care about me. Not many people know how many times I almost confessed my love for her, but my pride got in the way.
I do.
I don't care who knows our hurtful banter was just our way of expressing our feelings. I don't care who knows that I would rather be with her than anyone else in the world. I don't care who knows it excited me when she finally confessed her love for me, despite how I had been treating her. I don't care who knows the many months I spent wondering if was worth her time. I don't care who knows when she stopped being "weak", and forced me to listen to her confess her love for me repeatedly. I don't care who knows that I wasn't running away from her when I went to Europe; I was only picking up her favorite things. I don't care who knows how much she means to me, and that I could finally tell her how I feel. I don't care who believes me when I say I love her.
I do.