Ah, my one little contribution to Tokyo Babylon fandom. This is my reaction
to all those S/S shipper fics that fill the community. (Not that any of
them aren't good.... Of course not!) Though there was a thought running in
my head occasionally that TB fans had a tendency to ignore some of the
deeper aspects of the series, some of the great stories of people's lives
that have, for me for the most part, resonated so true its almost scary. In
particular is Hashimoto, the school girl constantly picked on by her
classmates until she met Subaru and decided to fight back. I always
identified with her so much, I went through so much of the same stuff when
I was younger. (Though I never joined a cult and have yet to meet my
Subaru...)
"Save Me?", by Winifred
Save me?
Do I need to be saved?
I used to think that I did; that I needed someone special to take me away from this life.
Maybe a shiny knight on a white horse, who could lift me away from my problems.
Away from my parent's pressure, my teachers who say that I need to take more initiative, from "them".
"Them". Those girls: they know nothing about me yet they think that they are better than I am.
And for a while, after all the insults, kicks, pranks, shoves into the mud, and emotional damage... I started to believe it.
I started to think, "How could they do such horrible things to me if I didn't deserve it? How am I supposed to fight back? What could I possibly do?"
So I let them push me around, I isolated myself from everyone else, I lived miserable waiting for someone to come and fix all my problems.
Then it seemed as if that person HAD come, in the form of a seemingly nice woman who told me that I had the power to solve everything.
If I just prayed hard enough.
But hadn't I already done that? Hadn't I already suffered years hoping for them to stop?
Hadn't I already waited patiently for change?
What was praying supposed to do?
Of course that wouldn't help.
She, a "teacher", had pretty words that were hollow.
She said that she could understand my suffering, but she couldn't. No one could understand it, no one was myself! No one has been in my situation except me!
I looked at her, and I saw someone who could talk freely with everyone she met, everyone seemed to love her. There was no way she could understand what an outcast like me went through everyday of my life.
A false prophet who left us not having actually saved anyone.
Then I met my true savior, not a gallant knight, but a thin, shy boy my age who couldn't fix any of my problems if he tried.
He couldn't do anything, but he didn't try to pretend that he could. He told me the only thing that anyone has said to me that has made sense, that he couldn't understand my problems. He could only listen.
He could only listen, like anyone else could only. No one could solve things for me besides myself; I was the only one who could make things better.
Maybe I should have listened to that teacher who told me to take more initiative, after all.
So for the first time in my life, I fought back. I fought "them", those who had always triumphed over me. They may think that they won that battle, for I was the one in the hospital afterwards.
However I was the true victor, the one who was able to win over myself and do _something_ to change my situation.
I rescued myself from always submitting to them, always giving in, and always thinking I was something pathetic who couldn't do anything on her own.
And now I have my scar to bare my reminder every day in the mirror over my personal victory, my newfound courage.
I still have a long way to go, towards improving things for myself.
Till I can see "him" again. Till I can tell him face-to-face what I have done, and what I feel that I can now do.
That I am not someone who can be bossed around, manipulated, put down. I am a capable girl who now feels that she can accomplish whatever she wants for herself.
I don't need his validation; I just want to thank him.
For showing me that I could save myself.
"Save Me?", by Winifred
Save me?
Do I need to be saved?
I used to think that I did; that I needed someone special to take me away from this life.
Maybe a shiny knight on a white horse, who could lift me away from my problems.
Away from my parent's pressure, my teachers who say that I need to take more initiative, from "them".
"Them". Those girls: they know nothing about me yet they think that they are better than I am.
And for a while, after all the insults, kicks, pranks, shoves into the mud, and emotional damage... I started to believe it.
I started to think, "How could they do such horrible things to me if I didn't deserve it? How am I supposed to fight back? What could I possibly do?"
So I let them push me around, I isolated myself from everyone else, I lived miserable waiting for someone to come and fix all my problems.
Then it seemed as if that person HAD come, in the form of a seemingly nice woman who told me that I had the power to solve everything.
If I just prayed hard enough.
But hadn't I already done that? Hadn't I already suffered years hoping for them to stop?
Hadn't I already waited patiently for change?
What was praying supposed to do?
Of course that wouldn't help.
She, a "teacher", had pretty words that were hollow.
She said that she could understand my suffering, but she couldn't. No one could understand it, no one was myself! No one has been in my situation except me!
I looked at her, and I saw someone who could talk freely with everyone she met, everyone seemed to love her. There was no way she could understand what an outcast like me went through everyday of my life.
A false prophet who left us not having actually saved anyone.
Then I met my true savior, not a gallant knight, but a thin, shy boy my age who couldn't fix any of my problems if he tried.
He couldn't do anything, but he didn't try to pretend that he could. He told me the only thing that anyone has said to me that has made sense, that he couldn't understand my problems. He could only listen.
He could only listen, like anyone else could only. No one could solve things for me besides myself; I was the only one who could make things better.
Maybe I should have listened to that teacher who told me to take more initiative, after all.
So for the first time in my life, I fought back. I fought "them", those who had always triumphed over me. They may think that they won that battle, for I was the one in the hospital afterwards.
However I was the true victor, the one who was able to win over myself and do _something_ to change my situation.
I rescued myself from always submitting to them, always giving in, and always thinking I was something pathetic who couldn't do anything on her own.
And now I have my scar to bare my reminder every day in the mirror over my personal victory, my newfound courage.
I still have a long way to go, towards improving things for myself.
Till I can see "him" again. Till I can tell him face-to-face what I have done, and what I feel that I can now do.
That I am not someone who can be bossed around, manipulated, put down. I am a capable girl who now feels that she can accomplish whatever she wants for herself.
I don't need his validation; I just want to thank him.
For showing me that I could save myself.