Vocal: Christina Aguilera
Music: Matthew Wilder
Lyrics: David Zippel
songfic by NemKess
His words echo in my ears. What right does he have to make such judgments? Who does he think he is?
He may have known me for the last six years, but he's never really understood me. At this point, I don't think he ever will. I sincerely doubt he's even bothered to try.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and stop to stare.
What does he see when he sees me? Does he see the real me or the mask?
It's a mask I've worn for so long, I'm not even sure I can shed it anymore. Maybe I've worn it so long that there is no real me left behind it.
Why does everyone always expect me to be the strong one? Why does the weight of world peace have to rest on my shoulders?
And why can't he of all people understand the actor behind the role?
(Look at me
You may think you see who I really am
But you'll never know me
Ev'ry day
It's as if I play a part
Now I see
If I wear a mask
I can fool the world
But I cannot fool my heart)
Maybe I'm the only one who still sees that frightened little girl who just wants her mom and dad to sooth all the pain away.
The angry teen-ager who wants to have all those famous 'stages'. That wants to be more than the perfect daughter, the star student. The romantic girl that wants a ~normal~ first love, not a homicidal, self-destructive maniac who- after 6 years- still can't admit that he might accidentally ~feel~ something.
The unsure young woman who wants to test her wings without a dozen bodyguards and the world watching every movement. That wants real love instead of 'protection'.
I suppose that I am. And even I am beginning to have a hard time seeing the cracks in the mask.
When will they see the real me, the one that hides deep inside? When will he?
(Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?)
It was hard back when it was just my father who expected perfection. Now that so many depend on me, I've had to bury that rebellious soul even deeper. I have to be aware of every action and reaction. Everything I do or say has to be analyzed. I can't offend or upset anyone. I can't tell anyone to fuck off or punch someone no matter how much they push.
A diplomat doesn't do that sort of thing. Even worse, a pacifist shouldn't even think it.
I am their symbol. His symbol. Everyone's ideal of peace.
What would they say if I just 'to hell with the world' and quit? Left everything up to everyone else?
Would they understand? Would they realize that they ask too much of any single person, let alone one young woman?
Would any of them still love me?
(I am now
In a world where I have to hide my heart
And what I believe in
But somehow
I will show the world
What's inside my heart
And be loved for who I am)
I am so much less than they seem to think I am. And yet, I think that what I am is a great deal more.
I'm a real person, with real feelings. I get angry just like everyone else. I feel vengeful. I feel pain.
Do they ever think of that?
Or am I just a doll with a perfect smiling face and nothing under the surface in their minds?
He spends so much time watching me and yet I know he doesn't really see. He never sees the tears that threaten but never actually fall. He never sees the rage that boils not only at the stupid old school aristocrats I have to deal with every day, but at him as well. He never sees the fear or the hate or the love.
When will they see? When will he see?
(Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don't know?
Must I pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?)
Why can't they just take me as myself? Why must they demand so much of me? Why do I allow it?
I don't know, I can't even begin to explain although I'm sure there are plenty of psycho-analysis papers done over this sort of thing. The need to please everyone else at the expense of yourself. I've heard it's a common enough ailment.
I'm so tired. Tired of all of it. Tired of the meetings, tired of the pacifism. Tired of pretending to be something I'm not. Hell, I'm even tired of him.
I want to be free. Free to be me.
(There's a heart that must be free to fly
That burns with a need to know the reason why,
Why must we all conceal
What we think
How we feel
Must there be a secret me
I'm forced to hide?)
I said I would do this task and now I am committed. I will be their dove of peace. I will bury myself and do what needs to be done. I will help keep peace so that he and others like him will not have to fight again.
For him, for them, I will do this thing.
But one day...
One day I will shed this mask and I will be free.
Who knows? Maybe by then he will have shed his own mask and we can be free together.
(I won't pretend that I'm
Someone else
For all time
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?)