The Rantings and Ravings of Rose Tyler
After so long, I'm still crying myself to sleep. It's stupid, I'm practically middle aged. I'm a successful woman with a well-paid job yet I still come home with that heavy feeling in my chest and the want to kill some unsuspecting cuddly animal. In conclusion, I'm a mess. My life is a mess. Everything is his fault. Maybe, if I'd not gone out that night, and stayed in with mum, I would never have met him. Radiation poisoning? No, he was pissed. After a couple of day-trips in his stupid box he drops me back home and doesn't come back, leaving me with some pathetic copy of himself that's supposed to make me feel better. It doesn't. Fair enough, John is a wonderful man and I love him. But he isn't the man I fell in love with, and he probably never will be. He doesn't pull have that confused look on his face when he's thinking, and his nose doesn't scrunch up when he laughs. He doesn't wear them battered red converse with his suit when he goes to work. His hair always looks sleek and he keeps himself well-groomed; I've never seen him with bed-hair or a 5 o'clock shadow. He sleeps for hours, all day if he has the chance. He likes to holiday in England. To put it bluntly, he's boring.
I can't believe what he's done to me. He's messed with my head and I think I'm crazy. I should be in a mental hospital, or something. Look at me, I'm sitting here like a fool watching some pathetic movie, some romantic comedy that my mum thinks is going to cheer me up. No. I never want to see him again, heck; I never will see him again anyway. He's probably somewhere in the thirty-ninth century smooching off with another unsuspecting young girl who thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread. Sounds a bit like me to be honest. Then he'll ditch her for another like he did with me, and probably countless others before. I'm not looking for sympathy, I don't want him back. He was never mine anyway.
Maybe that's why I like... liked him so much. Played hard to get. Or maybe it's because he's a player and girls away fall for the player. I still see him lying in my bed every day, not that I want to, or anything. I hate him, so, yeah, why would I want to see him? I have John, who I love to pieces. Sort of. He's like your geeky best mate: you love her to bits but she'd rather hit the library than the pub. I'm a pub girl. I think he's a library kinda guy, he's really intelligent. Well not really, but he's quite clever. I guess. But I still hate him. If he was mortal I think I might want him to be struck down by lightening or something. Something painful, because he hurt me, he hurt me a lot. He's lucky; he's got two bloody hearts so it doesn't matter if he breaks one. Oh no, he's not a pitiable little human with only one who cries when someone dies or laughs their head off when someone falls over. From what I've seen, he doesn't have the capability to feel anything. It's like he's a robot. Except for when he used get angry, he would practically destroy an entire world in rage, just because he could, you know? He had that sort of power. Not over me, though, I know not to waste my time on someone like him anymore. I think.
Not that the time we spent together was a waste or anything, well it was, I guess. Nothing ever came of it, so it could be classified as a waste of my life, with unnecessary heartbreak thrown in for dramatic effect, or comic relief for him. I hope he isn't laughing at me. It's not my fault I fell for the wrong guy. He was the wrong guy, definitely. John's the right guy. John is him. How unfair. But not, cause John's such an angel and he's a vile, disgustingly evil man who screwed me over and chucked me to the kerb. Heck, he made me travel all the way to fucking Norway just to see him, because I was stupid and completely in love, and he knew it. So he exploited it, just to leave me again with some excuse about a void and parallel universes and all that crap that only he understands. Makes me sick. He makes me sick. Lovesick.
I guess this movie isn't that bad. Well, except for the fact that I was I was in it. I wish I was the girl who marries a time traveller. A time traveller that actually came back for her. I want to marry a time traveller, because... it'd be cool, sort of. He seems sort of like the kinda guy that would come back, because he cares. Even if he's busy, or whatever, he still comes back. Wow, now that definitely sounds like someone I know, not. He left me. Stupid man. When I told him I loved him, he still left me. Stood there like some dumb fuck and said my name before vanishing. He knew what I wanted to hear, that maybe the feeling was mutual, or something. Obviously, he would never say that, so all I get is a reminder of my name, not even a goodbye. I might not be as intelligent and wise and bloody old as him, but I can tell these sorts of things. I guess it's just his way of telling me to sling my hook, so he can find another innocent young woman to make fall in crazy love with him so he can that little kick out of ditching them.
Once this movie is finished, and I've stuffed my face with every piece of chocolate I can find, I'm going to bed. No, I'm not going to cry myself to sleep, and no, I won't wake up tomorrow with a banging headache. I'll sleep well for the first time in years, because in about twenty four minutes I'm going to forget all about that son-of-a-bitch and get on with my life. With John. I'm going to marry John. Soon, I hope. I hope he's jealous, knowing that he's unloved, yet his human 'twin' isn't. I want him to be squirming with envy. I want him to hurt, to wish he could erase the past five years of his life because it's too painful to even think about it. I wish he was dead, I wish he was in so much pain he can't even scream. I wish he was dead, so I could hold his body and touch his hair and his face and he will never know, because I can't give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm stupidly, annoyingly and completely in love with him. Damn, I need help. I think need a Doctor.