Disclaimer: BtVS doesn´t belong to me, but to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I´m just messing around.
~*~ January Girl ~*~
She was a January Girl
She never let on how insane it was
~ Tori Amos
I look like a normal girl. I am neither extraordinarily pretty nor especially ugly. My hair is straight and brown and, if you are willing to believe the judgement of a certain ex-vengeance demon, really needs a new cut. My eyes are blue, not the enchanting azure Buffy´s eyes possess, but a very simple, very ordinary blue. If the old saying that eyes are the windows to the soul is actually true, my soul must be a rather boring place to be.
But all this is just a mask, a colourful lie that skilfully hides what I really am: Nothing.
For there is no me, no identity, no past. The girl with the brown hair and the blue eyes doesn't exist. She is just the form that holds the key to a power so terrible, so deadly that nobody ever dared to name it. I existed for so long without emotions, without fears, without memory until the monks forced me into this fragile shell and even now I cannot figure out whether they gave me only the form or also the heart of a human being. I can laugh, I can walk, I can even cry, but is this enough to make a person real?
What if it is not?
Strangely, it is this gap, this *hole* where my life used to be which plagues me most. More than the fact that Buffy didn't come home last night again. More than the fact that Willow's visits become less and less frequent. More than the fact that Bryan Carpenter has dumped me for that blonde hellbitch Elizabeth Morgan. These are inconsequential nuisances compared to that...space.
The fact that I simply am not.
Can dolls cry, I have asked my mum - or better I falsely remember to have asked the woman I believed to be my mother - once when I was still a child.
I don't remember what she answered.
~*~*~
Finis