Title: Who am I?

Summary: -

Authors Note: This is who I actually wanted to be Gossip Girl. FYI, if anybody's wondering, I do write these top ones before I write it and the bottom ones afterwards, like the Author's Notes. But, when these are actually posted and I get reviews *hint hint* I'll add a small snippet of thanks in here! Haha, so thanks for the fantastic response. This was supposed to be the first one I were to post but I liked Nate's better.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


DOROTA


Miss Blair had walked in on you at the laptop when she was trying to say goodbye.

Your hands, they were typing furiously away, creating a story on the Gossip Girl page. Some scandal about Lonely Boy and Serena.

You hear a sharp intake of breath behind you, spinning around to find Miss Blair standing there. Eyes wide.

"You- You're Gossip Girl?" And Miss Blair, she doesn't even sound mad. She laughs, she laughs, she laughs!

You don't know why she walks out of the room at first, her laugh filling up every spare space of the Waldorf household.

And, you don't even shut down the site.

When Miss Blair comes back from her honeymoon, she asks you, begs you too.

She wants a world free of Gossip Girl when her baby is born - you squeal as she announces the news and you shut down the site, quietly.

Nobody has to know that it was you.

You could be fired, no chance of never getting another job and the Waldorf's, you don't even want to think what will happen when their name is tarnished because of your exploits.

They all wonder who it was, they take guesses from time to time.

And, Blair and Chuck, they just simple smile.

Never a glance in your direction, you know they love their friends but you also know that if they ever have a fall out, another explosive fight, then they'll all probably tell.

You don't really feel guilty in the end.

And nobody really hates you.

Blair, she stops telling you secrets.

Blair, she always asks if the site is dead.

Blair, she's always worried.

And even though you know it was your fault for a lot of things, you don't feel any hint of remorse.

Except a little bit.

You wouldn't have started it if you didn't think you would feel guilty.

Wouldn't of kept going if you felt guilty.

And, you did shut it down after the accident.

Chuck, he asks you one night when Henry is tucked into bed and Blair is sleeping peacefully upstairs why you started Gossip Girl.

"Miss Blair, she was upset. She complain not know anything anymore. Everybody knows before her. I thought well what if everyone knew at the same time? Miss Blair, she tell me a lot of secrets-" Chuck, he cuts you off with a smile and a shake of the head.

"Dorota, you don't need to call her Miss Blair any more." He states, shaking his head and you smile because even though you had wronged them all, they still love you, they still forgive you.

Miss Blair, she loves you.

And Mister Chuck, he loves Blair.

And you guess late one night that's why they haven't kicked you to the curb.

You tell Vanya a few years later.

You're almost as nervous as you were when you were pregnant with Ana.

He leaves.

For a day, for a week, for a month, for a year, for two years.

But he can't stay away forever.

He comes back after a month, bearing flowers and apologizes.

You laugh, he had nothing to be sorry for.

You being the anonymous blogger that basically stalked teens put a strain on your relationship.

But.

Vanya, he loves you.

You make a final post somewhere around the time the last Bass child is heading off to Yale.

It's about how we had all made it out in the big, bad world.

You forgot how thrilling it was to pretend as if you were one of them and not just the Waldorf's maid.

Blair, she visits you in tears after that because she finally understands.

You just wanted to be her friend.

You just wanted to be her friend.

You admit that it was stupid, dumb, silly.

You were a princess to a maid to a gossip blogger that ruined lives.

It wasn't just you though.

It was everybody, all you did was post and word and press send.


A\N: I think I could of made this better. I don't really like it.