A/N: I'm a German writer and this is my very first english OS. Thousand thanks to my beta enunciiate without her I would be totally helpless. I like to write about Blair's life actually. I think it's kind of sad, so I have written an OS about it, indirectly about her bulimia.

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She should think of something else – anything but him. Butterflies. That was it. Butterflies are bright, bubbly, and free. Butterflies are uncomplicated. They are so small and seem like they have no problems.

All at once, it came to her mind. Butterflies reminded Blair of her seventeenth birthday and this was definitely not a birthday she wanted to remember.

"How do you think I feel? I can't sleep. I feel sick like there's something in my stomach... fluttering."


"Butterflies?"

So, she couldn't think of butterflies. No, definitely not. Desperately, she searched for something else.

She couldn't think of Serena because every time she thought of her best friend, she remembered how her mother preferred her to her own daughter. She remembered how much it hurt to search every day for the perfect outfit to be as beautiful as Serena and still be in second place.

Every time, Blair didn't understand that she was still beautiful next to her.

She couldn't think of Nate because every time she thought of her former boyfriend, she remembered that her fairytale didn't exist in reality. The old memories of his betrayal still haunted her.

Every time, Blair thought she wasn't enough for him.

She couldn't think of Little J because every time she thought of her competition, she remembered how hard it was to be a queen. The blonde one reminded her of how she was dethroned and it become clear to her how right she was that this wasn't even worth it.

Every time, Blair thought she wasn't perfect; that she never had been.

This brought her back to the Gossip Girl blast and thus, she was back to thinking of him. It was a never-ending circle.

"I don't want you anymore and I can't see why anyone else would."

The sentence echoed in her mind again and again. Of course he didn't want her. She wasn't as perfect as Serena. She was just another one of his sluts.

She wasn't Blair Waldorf, the strong and cold queen, anymore. She was vulnerable and weak, but there was something left she could control. The only thing she had ever controlled throughout her entire life.

So, she stumbled into the bathroom. She sat down and tied her hair back. She knew there was no one to save from what was about to occur again.

Her release; her chance to escape from the word – to feel relief.