A/N -ok, so this is my first real attempt at writing fanfiction so be gentle with me.
It is Elena's POV and I might develop it into a story (depending on how these last 2 episodes of season 3 go) so please review and tell me if you like the style or you find it too sugary, too reflective, if you have any suggestions or any corrections to make, please do, it will only improve my English.
Enjoy xoxo
I feel like my life doesn't belong to me anymore, and it's been like this for a while now. I am different, somehow changed, and I know I'll keep changing. Is this what growing up means? Realizing that you never actually start or stop growing? All I know is that life is a journey, a carousel, a circus with no real destination if not self-extinction, whether it means death, or never-ending consumption as a vampire.
There was a day when my favorite thing in the world was to wake up in the morning anxious to find out what was waiting for me outside. It is was scares me the most now.
Every day I wake up knowing that my parents are dead. Knowing that my birth parents died too and without hearing those words from me, the words I'd use to tell them I forgive them. Jenna died. She never wanted any part of the life I chose for myself, and I'll never stop feeling guilty over what happened to her. She was awesome. And she still is, even on the other side apparently, since Esther told me that, in spite of everything, Jenna found peace. Esther. She killed Alaric. He may not be technically dead, but the Alaric we know and love is gone for good. The Alaric who forced us to use honey instead of syrup on pancakes, only because 'the stains would be easier to clean', is never going to make pancakes for us again. The Alaric who stepped up when no-one else could and took care of us, trying to make a joke out of a chick-flick at night, after a day spent hammering out a plan to kill an Original. The Alaric whose heart was so big that he became best friends with the man who ruined his life in the first place. The Alaric who loved us all so much that he didn't think his life was ruined at all. He told me he thought of his life as the closest thing to all of his dreams come true.
My eyes filled with the tears I had been helplessly trying to push back for a week now. It is almost routine after all. Crying, mourning a beloved one, seeking for a shoulder to surrender on, offering my shoulder in return. What is the point of all this? Do I even have any right to feel sorry for myself for losing everyone?
I can almost hear Stefan's voice from the Decade Dance: "You have me". Do I? Yes. Can I trust him? Yes. Now that he has learnt to control his hunger, yes, I can. Does it make any difference? No, unfortunately. The fear and the emptiness, the loss and the frustration will still be there. But, perhaps, they'll feel lighter… Easier to carry around all the time if I share them with him. No. No, they won't. I never truly share them with Stefan. He tries, he tries so hard, but never hard enough. It's not his fault, he doesn't know such a bitterness, and luckly for him! Even as a vampire his soul is pure. How magic is that? That's his gift, and his torment, since purity brings conflict with his dark nature, a conflict that translates into an alternative state of abstension from blood and addiction to it. A purity that will never allow him to accept himself. I know he's fighting the urge for blood only to come back with me without risking to bite me again. Without being despised by me. But then… then what? What now?
Now I go on. With or without Stefan. With or without Alaric, Jenna and my two sets of parents. Proving myself strong to Jeremy and filling in the blanks, righting the wrongs I did, using misery as a power to help me face all the adversities to come. Because they will come. I'm the doppelganger and I cannot blame anyone for that, I just am. I've already accepted it. I might as well embrace it.
A rush of confidence sends shivers down my spine. I thought I would have never made it through this year, but I did, damaged but whole. Maybe stronger than before, I feel taller, even, is that possible?
Kids my age are not used to face life-or-death situations on a daily basis like I am, but it doesn't make me angry anymore, it makes me feel special. Friends like mine are not supposed to let go of so many people without starting to hate the cause of all of their suffering, but my friends are the most precious thing in the world to me since the trouble we went through has only brought us closer and closer. Girls are not usually worshipped by guys like Damon, they are bitten, compelled, drained, fucked, used, killed, forgotten. But I'm not.
I'm adored by him, I'm not blind. I'm his best friend. I'm his muse. I'm his humanity. And he is my smile. He's my youth. He is my home. I could never let go of him. The intensity of his love frightens me to death but I think I'm ready now. I'm familiar with fear and I'm ready to take the leap, to sink in his deep blue eyes that promise a universe of devotion and get lost into them. I'm ready to believe that I deserve this kind of love and I need him to teach me how to love so bravely because he deserves it too.
I long for his arms to return any of my hugs. For his lips to kiss mine knowing that he can trust my feelings. Enjoying that I cannot be owned, but I'll willingly give myself to him for the rest of my days if it'll make up for it. I'm ready to share both my sorrow and my happiness because he's the only one who will understand, he always is. And I cannot wait to rest my forehead on his and feel so heavenly in sin that maybe, just maybe, not even forever can be enough for us.
So… 'what now' was the question, right? What now?
Now I just have to tell him.
Thank you for taking the time to read this brief experiment of a one-shot/maybe-a-wonderful-story-who-knows.
More soon,
Emma.
