Dear Diary,
You know how I hate when I have to admit Buffy's right? Well, she did it to
me again. The other day I asked her if I could go on patrol and she said
no. She keeps saying she is protecting me from the things that go bump in
the night. She doesn't seem to understand that whatever Big Bad is in town
will find me at some point. After all, I'm the Slayer's sister. I can't
even count the times that the windows have been broken out in the living
room or the upstairs of the house. I once suggested that Xander use
bulletproof glass to replace them, but he pointed out that it might be best
to let out whatever gets in. Caged animals and all that. He had a point and
I admitted it. At least, he doesn't lord it above me when he's right, like
Buffy does. Anyhow, where was I? Oh yeah. Buffy convinced me I'm not ready
for patrolling.
I have to admit it's not the being banned from patrol that gets me. It's the fact that I'm jealous about it. I'm jealous. I'm jealous. I'm jealous. There. I said it. You know, Buffy was my age once. She lied all the time to cover her activities. She did have the burden of saving the world alongside her algebra homework. (Between you and me, I'm just glad saving the world didn't rely on algebra or we'd all be dead. I saw her report card.) I don't want to be Buffy and I don't think anyone understands that. I don't want to live a lie. I don't want be a Scooby. I want to be with her because she's my sister. Some part of me calls to be with her, even when we are fighting. I don't know if it's those sparks that created me or those sparks that convince me I am here and living the faux impersonation of a teenage life she didn't have. Without Mom, we don't have to lie about everything that's out there. And, she has to face it; life will never be normal for us.
We live on the Hellmouth. I hate the way that the round letters in that word want to swallow me whole even from the page. It's a struggle living here. I shouldn't say living here. I should say existing. I don't want to live a lie. I want to live. I want to make mistakes. I want to kiss boys. I want to have friends. I want to eat pizza and make cookies. But most of all, I want to be me, Dawn, not the sidekick little sister. At my age, Buffy found Willow and Xander and they never left her alone. I want that. As is, I'm alone, and I'm not alone. Buffy's family built from blood, love, and fear is always around. Well, I have to say they are more like family, but it's not the same. They've lived this life. They can drink. They can drive. They can do pretty much whatever they want now. I'm cut off from bringing the kids home from school. I can't really bring them to a training camp or a place where they could get killed or a planning meeting to kill the next big bad around the corner. There's no way to cover for our life the way it is. However, Buffy won't let me live that imperfect life because she 's trying to protect me.
For tenth grade English, the teacher made me read Tennyson's "Lady of Shallot." I feel a lot like that sometimes. Sometimes, I want to throw caution to the wind and take charge of my destiny, even if it means the end. I want to know what it feels like to live for as long as it lasts.for once. Buffy has taken that choice away from me so I could live. All I felt was the pain when she died. I still didn't know what it was to live. I don't want to be some old prune in my sixties waiting to live. I've tried arguing the age thing with her. Not only was she out fighting the forces of darkness at my age, she was also dating Angel, a guy who's over four hundred years her senior. Admittedly, he's not really an icky Master-type vampire, but he was undead with centuries of experience on her and I can't even date boys at school. Anyhow, when I brought up the fact that I'm older than she was when she was kicked out of school for killing the vampires and moving to Sunnydale, she smiles a smile so like Mom's that it hurts before reminding me that I'm only technically two. I hate that. I have years of memories that are nothing other than someone's fantasy of what my life would have been.
The other day I tried a new tactic. OK. I'm only two but before being lowly Dawn, I was once "The Key" and a force to be reckoned with. However, that argument was dashed when we were interrupted by yet another attack. Watching Buffy fight them, my argument was lost. I think she is probably more potent than I ever was.
It's the sheer power of her determination that scares me. Part of me wants to run away from it, but I also fear if I don't spend time with it now that I will lose it again forever. Slayers don't often live long. I think she's already the oldest and I heard her whispering to Willow one night that she's died twice. The second time she did it more for me than for anyone else. I never want to live through that again. With the way she's burning, I fear being trapped in my room when she leaves me again. Self-fulfilling prophecy? I hope not. I merely said it because I'm afraid it will happen and I can't really talk to anyone about it. I learned too much talking to Anya's friend Helfrich about fears and wishes.
Well, I hear Willow calling for dinner. If you get an idea on how I can get through to Buffy, let me know. I have to wash up or deal with everyone harping at once, just like my family does. I really don't want to hear Anya lecturing me on how bacteria feast. If I hear one more of her blatant blunt monologues, I may never eat again.
Later, D.
I have to admit it's not the being banned from patrol that gets me. It's the fact that I'm jealous about it. I'm jealous. I'm jealous. I'm jealous. There. I said it. You know, Buffy was my age once. She lied all the time to cover her activities. She did have the burden of saving the world alongside her algebra homework. (Between you and me, I'm just glad saving the world didn't rely on algebra or we'd all be dead. I saw her report card.) I don't want to be Buffy and I don't think anyone understands that. I don't want to live a lie. I don't want be a Scooby. I want to be with her because she's my sister. Some part of me calls to be with her, even when we are fighting. I don't know if it's those sparks that created me or those sparks that convince me I am here and living the faux impersonation of a teenage life she didn't have. Without Mom, we don't have to lie about everything that's out there. And, she has to face it; life will never be normal for us.
We live on the Hellmouth. I hate the way that the round letters in that word want to swallow me whole even from the page. It's a struggle living here. I shouldn't say living here. I should say existing. I don't want to live a lie. I want to live. I want to make mistakes. I want to kiss boys. I want to have friends. I want to eat pizza and make cookies. But most of all, I want to be me, Dawn, not the sidekick little sister. At my age, Buffy found Willow and Xander and they never left her alone. I want that. As is, I'm alone, and I'm not alone. Buffy's family built from blood, love, and fear is always around. Well, I have to say they are more like family, but it's not the same. They've lived this life. They can drink. They can drive. They can do pretty much whatever they want now. I'm cut off from bringing the kids home from school. I can't really bring them to a training camp or a place where they could get killed or a planning meeting to kill the next big bad around the corner. There's no way to cover for our life the way it is. However, Buffy won't let me live that imperfect life because she 's trying to protect me.
For tenth grade English, the teacher made me read Tennyson's "Lady of Shallot." I feel a lot like that sometimes. Sometimes, I want to throw caution to the wind and take charge of my destiny, even if it means the end. I want to know what it feels like to live for as long as it lasts.for once. Buffy has taken that choice away from me so I could live. All I felt was the pain when she died. I still didn't know what it was to live. I don't want to be some old prune in my sixties waiting to live. I've tried arguing the age thing with her. Not only was she out fighting the forces of darkness at my age, she was also dating Angel, a guy who's over four hundred years her senior. Admittedly, he's not really an icky Master-type vampire, but he was undead with centuries of experience on her and I can't even date boys at school. Anyhow, when I brought up the fact that I'm older than she was when she was kicked out of school for killing the vampires and moving to Sunnydale, she smiles a smile so like Mom's that it hurts before reminding me that I'm only technically two. I hate that. I have years of memories that are nothing other than someone's fantasy of what my life would have been.
The other day I tried a new tactic. OK. I'm only two but before being lowly Dawn, I was once "The Key" and a force to be reckoned with. However, that argument was dashed when we were interrupted by yet another attack. Watching Buffy fight them, my argument was lost. I think she is probably more potent than I ever was.
It's the sheer power of her determination that scares me. Part of me wants to run away from it, but I also fear if I don't spend time with it now that I will lose it again forever. Slayers don't often live long. I think she's already the oldest and I heard her whispering to Willow one night that she's died twice. The second time she did it more for me than for anyone else. I never want to live through that again. With the way she's burning, I fear being trapped in my room when she leaves me again. Self-fulfilling prophecy? I hope not. I merely said it because I'm afraid it will happen and I can't really talk to anyone about it. I learned too much talking to Anya's friend Helfrich about fears and wishes.
Well, I hear Willow calling for dinner. If you get an idea on how I can get through to Buffy, let me know. I have to wash up or deal with everyone harping at once, just like my family does. I really don't want to hear Anya lecturing me on how bacteria feast. If I hear one more of her blatant blunt monologues, I may never eat again.
Later, D.