I bet you've guessed who I was long before we met. You've got the life, the glory, even the fucking fame. I'm jelous, B. Truely loathing you. But do you know how much it hurts to hate yourself? I guess not. The beautiful blondes never hate themselves. They have their little gangs to come and back them up if they're put down.
Yeah, B. You have friends. Friends that are worth your time. Do you remember when you used to be my friend? How you saw me across a crowded room and figured you'd like to help me? Do you remember when you said you felt how bad I hurt? How this child that's still shaking in her own cold sweat should be helped? Do you remember when you said you'd always bet here for me? Help me fight my demons - help me fight myself? Well, where are you now, B?
I thought for a second there that my cries for help were heard. You just proved to be weak just like the rest of them. Some little words thrown from a fallen star scared so bad that you go and cry to your man. Correction: Men. You have so many of them, B. I have to use my men to feel anything. Well, it's the closest that it comes to feeling. Fucking a guy senseless everynight just for the fun. I've never had love.
Oh, but you would understand. Liar. You never understood. Little miss Buffy has always had love. Always had a perfect family. You maybe be a little heart-broken over your parent's divorce, but I've never had a father. I've had a mother, but I highly doubt someone who calls you a dirty whore who needs to die - someone who hits you repeatedly until you can't breathe anymore - someone who says you're worthless and can never amount to anything.... I doubt that's a mother.
You're mother was wonderful, B. I can't doubt that. She was beautiful, smart, respected, caring. She had a job, a life, a wonderful daughter who might have been a little rebellious. If I was rebellious ( which I was ) my mother wouldn't look at me twice and say she forgave me. She never did when I was good.
One day, I made her a card for mother's day. I was nine. I figured that if I made her something she would love me. I came home, washed up after a previous fight I had with a school boy, and fixed something on the card to be sure it was perfect. I went over to my mother. She was laying on the couch still drinking. I remember she smelt like puke and booze, but I didn't care because I had a chance to get my mother to love her " little firecracker " ( that's what she called me before the drinking ). I went up to her. I pushed it out and faked a smile for that lazy bitch and handed her my card. She looked at it and said " What's this? "
" It's a card for you. Happy mother's day! " I hugged her and squeezed and loved her so much at that moment. She gave me this annoyed and disgusted grunt and pushed me into the coffee table.
That was all the love I got from her. So next time you say your life is hard and preach to me about it, you better think fast and just back the fuck off, B. I don't don't need your shit.
I didn't have feelings before you and your scooby-fucks came along. I had plans for the knives I bared and punches I threw. I wore my scars with pride, because pride was all I had even if it was shattered. You think I'd give a fuck if I killed that man in the alley? Wouldn't care less. But you had to make me feel like shit. You made me feel worse than shit. Every day I'm haunted by my past because you brought it all back to me. Everytime I close my eyes, everytime I fall asleep, everytime I screw some guy... I remember everything. E V E R Y T H I N G. And it's all... your... fault. And the worst part about it was that you lied to me. How could you do that? Lie to someone who was dying. You're the one who pushed me to my suicidal tendencies. You said you'd be there for me B. Well, where are you now when I need you the most?
- - -
A Letter To B
© XPuppet
This cannot be reproduced or redistributed without the author's permission. No infringement intended. All rights reserved.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They belong to Joss Whedon and anyone associated in the making of the show. No money is being produced as a result of this fanfic's publication. This was written on my time, alone.
Yeah, B. You have friends. Friends that are worth your time. Do you remember when you used to be my friend? How you saw me across a crowded room and figured you'd like to help me? Do you remember when you said you felt how bad I hurt? How this child that's still shaking in her own cold sweat should be helped? Do you remember when you said you'd always bet here for me? Help me fight my demons - help me fight myself? Well, where are you now, B?
I thought for a second there that my cries for help were heard. You just proved to be weak just like the rest of them. Some little words thrown from a fallen star scared so bad that you go and cry to your man. Correction: Men. You have so many of them, B. I have to use my men to feel anything. Well, it's the closest that it comes to feeling. Fucking a guy senseless everynight just for the fun. I've never had love.
Oh, but you would understand. Liar. You never understood. Little miss Buffy has always had love. Always had a perfect family. You maybe be a little heart-broken over your parent's divorce, but I've never had a father. I've had a mother, but I highly doubt someone who calls you a dirty whore who needs to die - someone who hits you repeatedly until you can't breathe anymore - someone who says you're worthless and can never amount to anything.... I doubt that's a mother.
You're mother was wonderful, B. I can't doubt that. She was beautiful, smart, respected, caring. She had a job, a life, a wonderful daughter who might have been a little rebellious. If I was rebellious ( which I was ) my mother wouldn't look at me twice and say she forgave me. She never did when I was good.
One day, I made her a card for mother's day. I was nine. I figured that if I made her something she would love me. I came home, washed up after a previous fight I had with a school boy, and fixed something on the card to be sure it was perfect. I went over to my mother. She was laying on the couch still drinking. I remember she smelt like puke and booze, but I didn't care because I had a chance to get my mother to love her " little firecracker " ( that's what she called me before the drinking ). I went up to her. I pushed it out and faked a smile for that lazy bitch and handed her my card. She looked at it and said " What's this? "
" It's a card for you. Happy mother's day! " I hugged her and squeezed and loved her so much at that moment. She gave me this annoyed and disgusted grunt and pushed me into the coffee table.
That was all the love I got from her. So next time you say your life is hard and preach to me about it, you better think fast and just back the fuck off, B. I don't don't need your shit.
I didn't have feelings before you and your scooby-fucks came along. I had plans for the knives I bared and punches I threw. I wore my scars with pride, because pride was all I had even if it was shattered. You think I'd give a fuck if I killed that man in the alley? Wouldn't care less. But you had to make me feel like shit. You made me feel worse than shit. Every day I'm haunted by my past because you brought it all back to me. Everytime I close my eyes, everytime I fall asleep, everytime I screw some guy... I remember everything. E V E R Y T H I N G. And it's all... your... fault. And the worst part about it was that you lied to me. How could you do that? Lie to someone who was dying. You're the one who pushed me to my suicidal tendencies. You said you'd be there for me B. Well, where are you now when I need you the most?
- - -
A Letter To B
© XPuppet
This cannot be reproduced or redistributed without the author's permission. No infringement intended. All rights reserved.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They belong to Joss Whedon and anyone associated in the making of the show. No money is being produced as a result of this fanfic's publication. This was written on my time, alone.