December 2017

Do you ever feel stuck with your life? Not feeling stuck as paralyzed by fear or stuck as not knowing what to do temporarily, but feeling stuck as watching your life like a movie in fast-forward, seeing people around you come and go, knowing they all change and move on eventually while you just stand there, frozen in time like a useless statue, wasting air and space? Do you ever feel like you are drowning underwater, screaming and kicking desperately, waiting for someone to pull you out, only to sink deeper and deeper, knowing you're going to die, no matter how hard you try to reach the surface?

Ok, that escalated quickly. I don't want to sound so desperate but the thing is, I'm desperate and I can't even hide it anymore. I don't even try. I'm stuck, I'm frozen and I'm drowning oh so slowly and agonizingly. Yeah, I sound cool, I know. I'm fun at parties too, guessed that right. (This has officially become creepy. See? I talk to myself. I should go out more. Or not.)

Sometimes I wonder: when it did it go all awry? When had things become so bad that I couldn't even recognize myself anymore? I'm not sure. Maybe it was the day when the Salvatore brothers came to Mystic Falls. Maybe it was when I found out I was a witch. Maybe it was when my Grams died. Or when my friends turned to creatures I used to read about in dark tales when I was a little girl. Or maybe it was when I died over and over again, leaving a small part of me behind every time I came back from the other side. Or maybe not. Maybe it wasn't a certain moment but a long process which wrecked me slowly but surely until I couldn't find my way back from the rabbit hole. Guess what, Alice. Wonderland is not so great after all.

I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, frowning at myself. I look just the same I used to but also, I look completely different. I don't really care about my appearance, not anymore. When I was in high school, I liked what I saw in the mirror. When I walked past one, I always stopped and stared for a minute because my reflection made me feel happy and confident, sexy even, at least on better days. Now it just makes me feel sad, reminding of a happier and healthier version of me while I know that version is long gone, leaving behind only an empty shell of the woman I used to be. Now I'm all hard lines and rigid mouth and I've-seen-everything eyes. I close them and try to steady my breathing. Try to relax.

Sometimes I like to pretend that if I concentrated long enough, that if I really wanted it to happen, my old self would stare back at me from the mirror when I re-opened my eyes. It never does yet I try over and over again. I played it as a child a lot when I wished to be someone else, someone older, more exciting and confident. Old habits die hard, I guess.

Do you ever get nostalgic? Because I do lately. I do a lot. My Grams once told me that the term 'nostalgia' is originated from the Greek words 'nostos' and 'algos' which means 'return' and 'misery'. Nostalgia is basically the misery we feel when we think about things that happened in the past; we feel it because we know we can't go back ever again and knowing it hurts. I don't know if I'm making any sense right now. All I know is that lately I think about the old times a lot and I feel a dull heartache because I can't stand the thought that this is my life now, this horrid, messed up, achingly boring and empty existence is mine to bare while the girl I used to be was full of hopes and plans and got excited when she thought about her future. She shouldn't have, I scoff bitterly at my own reflection. I could probably use a drink or two, so I head toward the kitchen.

Since these intense nostalgic feelings have started to gnaw at me lately, I've become painfully aware that I always under-appreciated happy moments in life when I was younger and careless, before everything just happened and blew up in my face. I had a great life with a promise of a bright future, yet I'd always found a reason to complain and suffer, like every teenage girl in the world, ever. Shocker, I know. I wasn't worse than any of them but I still feel remorse about it.

Now I look back and laugh humorlessly about the time in 9th grade when I got into a huge fight with Elena over basically nothing. I had studied for an important test for a week while Elena just made light of it, ending up copying my answers. Being the favorite of Mrs. Williamson, she got an A and I got a C because Mrs. W. assumed I was the one who'd copied, not the other way around. I remember clearly Elena sitting there, staring at the teacher doe-eyed and acting all innocent, not showing any intention to confess. That she-Judas, I thought, completely taken aback by her actions. I was so upset that I couldn't talk to her for like two weeks, not until she apologized a thousand times.

Or the time I went to shopping with Caroline and was naive enough to show her the dress I wanted to buy for the next ball, the dress for which I had been saving for weeks because it was a very expensive designer piece. Caroline bought the dress the next day for herself and when confronted, she had the nerve to try to play it off, like it was no big deal and I was just throwing a tantrum over nothing. I was so furious that I "accidentally" made out with the guy at the ball she wanted to hook up with, too eager to teach her a lesson. Unfortunately Caroline Forbes doesn't have a reputation for nothing and we would've got into an old-fashioned catfight if it wasn't for Elena. Now I get tears when I think about these silly little childish memories. I want to go back to these days so badly, I want to hold them tight and tell them that I don't care about the test or the stupid dress - which was too pink for me anyway, quoting Caroline -, or that I really don't care about anything, I just love them so much and we will be alright, everything will be alright.

But it's not, not in the slightest. Elena is lying in a coffin in my basement like a real-life Sleeping Beauty, only instead of waiting for her Prince Charming to kiss her, she waits for her BFF to kick the bucket (such a fairy tale our life is, isn't it) and Caroline is long gone from Mystic Falls, traveling around the world and making that carpe diem-thing happen for her. Sometimes she sends me a message, babbling about art and music and all the beauty she's seen, but I'm less and less able to understand her. Don't get me wrong, I'm genuinely happy for her and I always will be, but it doesn't change the fact that we can't really connect anymore. She has moved on and I'm stuck, simple as that is, and frankly I don't blame her at all. I should do the same, I really should. I pour myself a shot of vodka and knock it back, grimacing as it burns its way down my throat, although the sensation quickly fades away. It always does and it does faster and easier every single time. I shouldn't already refill, but I still do, for shame.

So how did you end up like this, Bonnie?, you might wonder. What happened to the Bonnie Bennett everyone adored back then? What happened to strong Bonnie, I'll-save-everyone-hero-of-the-day Bonnie, Don't-worry-I'll-gladly-sacrifice-myself-again Bonnie, Sure-I-can-handle-this-anchor-stuff-with-the-creepy-dead-people-using-me-as-a-gateway-to-Narnia-no-big-deal Bonnie? (You're welcome, creepy dead people, by the way.) What happened, you ask? Malachai Parker, that's what happened.

I don't know which was the moment when things started to go irrevocably bad in my life but I definitely know which was the one when I knew that there was no turning back and we are not going to be okay, not ever again: it was when Kai showed up in all of his cold and manic glory at his sister's wedding and ended it in the cruelest way one could imagine. Being a sucker for dramatic exits, he was also kind enough to put my best friend into permanent sleep until I die, like, you know, as a departure gift for me, because according to him, somewhere along the way I'd become the bane of his existence. But enough with Kai Parker already. He doesn't deserve to be remembered at all. That sick fuck. (Aaaand there goes the fourth shot, or was it the fifth? Whatever. I suck at math.)

Who am I kidding, I can never help myself once I've started to think about him. One single passing thought of Kai and I'm doomed for the day. Thinking of him makes me hysterical and dead inside at the same time. I try to not overanalyze his actions, obsess over the time we spent in 1994, the things he said and did, the things we did (ohgodwhy?), I try really hard not to think about him at all but it only works when I'm sober and I'm definitely not sober right now. Okay, so maybe I should make an exception, just for tonight and think about Kai Parker on purpose, because I don't feel like avoiding, lying and hiding, not tonight. Tonight I feel like torturing myself, drowning in agony and self-hatred while I drink myself into oblivion all alone. (What can I say? This is my kind of Friday night lately. Also, 'fun' is my middle name.)

"Tonight is the night when Bonnie Bennett is embarrassing herself!" One may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, my Grams used to say often, so I select an Ace of Base playlist and turn up the volume to maximum instantly, because ain't no embarrassing 90's soul-searching party without Ace of Base. Just another guilty pleasure of mine recently, listening to cringeworthy music from the 90's while getting drunk. Hey, don't judge me, I could have stranger hobbies! There are people out there who kill their family members while having a blast, right?

I dance around my living room and sing along, aaalll that she wants, is another baby, yeeeaaaahh, and I don't even bother with the shot glass anymore, I drink straight from the bottle. Damon would be sooo proud of me. Well, not that proud, I reconsider, as I slip and fall down onto the carpet, spilling my drink all over it.

But back to the task at hand. Embarrassing myself will be easy, I smirk to myself in my drunken stupor. How about a really embarrassing memory? Something embarrassing enough to get me sick by even thinking about it? Oooh, I've got a hardcore one. Hardcore on the "I would never tell anyone, ever" level. Ookaaay, so here goes nothing: when I met Kai in the 1994 prison world, I had it bad for him. Reaaaal bad. So bad that I actually kind of slept with him, even after I figured out he'd killed half of his family and I didn't do it entirely against my will.

Don't think for a moment I was under the impression that he was some misunderstood but overall nice guy, or that he was redeemable, oh I wasn't. When I first met him and saw the slightly manic gleam in his eyes, the calculating coldness in his mile-wide smile, I felt the unmistakeable aura of someone dark and dangerous and malevolent, yet those qualities just made him even more appealing. And even if I didn't see these signs, I still knew that he was there for something. (Not exactly murdering half of his family, but...something.) I wish I could say that after it turned out what he'd done, my attraction stopped, but it didn't. Yes, I hated him, I felt disgusted, I felt sick and dirty by even being in his presence, but did I stop feeling the sexual tension? No, I didn't, and I hated myself for it. I still do. Never in my entire life I felt so betrayed by my own body.

Caroline and Elena would be absolutely shocked to hear this dirty piece of info, not that they would have any right to judge, given their own choices in the past (or in the present, right Caroline?). And hey, it's not like I saw him as boyfriend material, I just wanted to have him purely in sexual ways. Which absolves my behavior, because...? Oh God, it can't be defended, no matter how hard I try. I sound ridiculous. What would I say to explain myself if anyone knew that formerly goody-two-shoes Bonnie Bennett was pining for a homicidal sociopath? "Oh yeah, I know it's a real bummer, but make no mistake, my dear friend, it's not like I wanted to go out with him! How dare you accuse an innocent girl like me of such disgusting behavior! Oh the scandal! I merely wanted a quickie with that children-murdering lunatic! See? No biggie!" People would call me crazy if they could hear my thoughts. It's probably not healthy. I should really go out more.

I must have found Kai so attractive because of his unapologetic behavior. He was like, "I murdered a few of my relatives, so what? There is still enough Parker scum on this planet, don't get your panties in a twist, Bonbon!". He just didn't care. It was unnerving and fascinating at the same time and also completely vomit-inducing, inexcusable and just pure evil, but it was still a new concept for me, to say. It was somehow...exciting, in a twisted and sickening way? Ok, I guess I took 'exciting' a tad more far than anyone should take it, like, ever. Leave it to Bonnie Bennett to have a bad boy crush once in her life in the name of excitement and let her choose Kai Parker, lovechild of Satan (and a Calvin Klein model, to be fair).

The almost empty glass I've been holding hits the hardwood floor with a loud crush and shatters into tiny little pieces. It snaps me out of my good mood in a millisecond and I start to sober rapidly. You're just hilarious, Bonnie, you really are, when you are laughing about that someone, who messed up your life big time, murdered a lot of innocent people, mostly his relatives, also made it impossible to hear the voice of your best friend ever again, looks like a fucking Clavin Klein model! Are you mad? Are you freaking out of your mind?

I reach down to pick up a particularly big piece of glass from the floor and proceed to cut my middle finger. Great, just great. I let out a frustrated cry. I really shouldn't drink because apparently it makes me dumb enough to forget that I have magic so I don't really need to touch shattered glass with my bare hands. I whisper a spell half-heartedly and a moment later the glass is intact on my coffee table once again once again, but I pay no mind to it because my thoughts travel back to Kai and 1994, Portland.

I knew from the start that Kai Parker meant trouble. I knew that I should act accordingly and hide my perverse fascination with him. And I knew I was a bad actress because he flirted with me heavily and - against my better judgement - I flirted right back. I enjoyed and even encouraged it because I was bored and he was hot, sue me. It was all fun and innocent until it turned out that he was actually one of the biggest psychos I've ever met (and that is saying something).

After that discovery I started to hate him with every fiber of my body, and it wasn't just because of what he had done. Surely I was sickened by his actions and was hell bent on never letting him escape, but the root of my hatred and my motivation for keeping him at the prison world was deeper and more… personal than my usual urge to save the world from one more sick creature with dark magic and even darker intentions because duh, that's what Bonnie Bennett does all the time. No, it was more than that. I hated him so much because he knew he'd got under my skin and he enjoyed it too much, like it was a private joke which only the two of us could understand. I wanted to slap him to death every time he flashed his stupid self-righteous smirk at me. I felt ashamed, angry, exposed, turned on and most of all, dirty, because he was mocking me with the desire I felt for him, and no matter how hard I tried to act mature and businesslike, he saw right through me. I tried to act like I was above him in every way, like I was a pristine little princess and he was an annoying piece of gum stuck to my shoes but it didn't work because he just owned up to being a piece of wreck and dirt and mocked me anyway. Those kind of mind games didn't work on him because, well, sociopath, but he appreciated me trying. It was written in every mischievous look of his, every obvious wink at me, every suggestive joke he made at my expense just how entertained he felt by the conflict he caused within me, and the angrier and bossier I got, the more satisfied he seemed. With Kai Parker, I felt like a deer caught in a flashlight and it was frightening because there was nothing I could do to convince him how much I didn't care about him.

Soon the world starts to spin uncontrollably around me as I get lost in the memories of one particular day, half asleep already and finally completely numb, consumed by alcohol and nostalgia.

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you all who've read it! Sorry for the mistakes I probably made because as much as I'd like to think I'm a decent writer and have mad English skills, this is not my native language so there has to be a lot of awkward phrasing but I promise you the plot is crazy good so it might worth to bare with me. I have it all planned out, most of the story is already written in parts but I have to translate every chapter from my language to English which will probably take a lot of time, not to mention I have exams right now so I shouldn't even be here... I have no idea when chapter 2 will be up but reviews definitely won't hurt the process ;)