Everyone thinks I'm perfect, and they love me for it. Or hate me. I am the Responsible one, the Mother Hen, the Reliable, the Watcher. I am everywhere anyone else is, and that's where I should be. I need to take care of everyone else, everyone else needs me. They don't get that I need MYSELF. I'm stretched so thin in every direction that I can feel the threads of my being snapping violently. No one loves me for ME, they love me for what I can do for them, how I can help them. The Professor loves me because I am Second. I back up Scott, I keep him grounded and watching his team. Without me the team would have revolted by now. I am his Prodigy. His Mentored. He wishes to be a father figure to me, he thinks that will make him look better than to just take in a bunch of freaky kids and help them with their powers.
And my parents have disappeared. I am Forgotten. I am the ghost of their thoughts of what could have been if they had conceived a child. But they never had a child, and that was always their sadness.
The team sees me as their Big Sister. I am there to watch them, to be the mitigation between them and the professor. I help them with their homework, I drive them to the mall, and in doing so they allow me to tag along with them as though it were a privilege for them to let me come with them.
I am the Honor Student, the Basketball Star, the Babysitter. The Popular daughter/sister/girlfriend that everyone can take pride in. I am everything to everyone. Isn't that what life is about? Pleasing everyone else? Who gives a flying fuck what I want. I don't want to be a doctor? Too bad. I'm doing it. Can't have anyone disappointed in me, can I? What would the neighbors think, ma?
It is a cage. You should not keep things caged. It would explain why I'm dying then, wouldn't it? My mind is breaking down, cracking under the pressure of keeping this facade up. I feel as though I'm being driven crazy. I can't breath the fresh air form here. Some people would love to have my life, would bask in the pleasure of getting to have everyone focusing on them. Fine. You have it.
That's part of the problem, isn't it? No privacy. Always under that lens, every move monitored and laid out for everyone to see. Never mind being a telepath. People think I'm spying on them, think I already know what's what. I have better things to do with my time than know that you're hot thinking about Scott. Have him. Or that you hate the fact that people love me. Deal with it. My thoughts have no private moments. The Professor knows my thoughts, he has a link to my mind, as does Scott. It's as though I'm being dissected and taken apart at every angle. Nothing belongs to me. I am not me. I have been so worn down that I feel like I have no spirit left.
I shut down the window of my blog as Scott walks into the room. I wonder if anyone will ever read my blog, if they will ever save me.
"Ready to go?" Scott asks me. We're going to his brother's foster parent's house for dinner. I don't want to go.
"Sure babe, I'm ready." I smile at him and wonder if he believes me.
I'll let you know next time they expect me to save the world.
This is a one-shot. Jean is always so perfect, I just wondered what she really though about it all.