They say you never forget your first love.
And I'm not sure who they' are, but I think they're right.
I loved Willow. And I love her. She's the best friend I've
had, have and will ever have, and I'm glad that our little interlude during high
school didn't screw that up. I might've loved Cordy. I think I did, but then I
wonder how I could've done what I did if I'd loved her. And Anya
She's the woman I want to spend the rest of my life loving, until we're little
old people with wrinkles and grey hair, living in a condo in Florida.
But Buffy was the first. She was the one I asked to the prom, the one
that was all I could talk about, the one that I fell in love with when I was just a kid.
She was the first girl that I went truly ga-ga over, the first - and the beginning of a
long line - to reject me, and the first girl to break my heart. And now all I have
left is the memories.
And now I feel like such a bastard. Because the first thought I had
after we'd defeated Glory, all the dust had settled, and I'd pulled Anya out
from under all that crap was relief. Relief that of all of us that were there that
day, Anya hadn't been the one that died. Because the odds had been against all of us
making it through the fight, and this tiny, microscopic part of me was happy that
Buffy had died instead of Anya.
Then I realised what I was thinking I nearly dropped Ahn on the
ground.
I knew, rationally, that I wasn't really happy. I was in shock
after all, and my brain was letting all sorts of thoughts and emotions float around in my
head, unchecked. That hasn't stopped the guilt, though.
So I'm sitting in my old room in my parent's house, which
is now the spare bedroom. I've got a shoebox full of high school emptied in my lap.
It's weird, because the bed still has my old Spiderman sheets on
it (my parents are to cheap to buy new ones), and the carpet is still the nasty brown
it's been all my life. But there's these girly, frilly curtains in the window
and the walls are now light blue.
That all just adds to the surreal atmosphere. It makes me feel like
it's all a dream, and I'm locked in this weird room where Buffy is dead, and
that if I wake up, everything will be back the way it's supposed to be. Did I mention
that I haven't gotten much sleep since...
Anyway, I've been flipping through our
senior yearbook - the one that said that "the future is ours". Ha. What future?
I mean, at a school with a mortality rate like Sunnydale, was that really an appropriate
thing to say? I guess they thought "the future for you is bleak and short" was
too harsh. But yes... back to the actual yearbook contents.
They (there's that 'they' again...) say that
highschool is the best time in your life. And I've realised that you don't think that
until it's over -- in my case, really over. Because I'm looking back... at all
these pictures where Buffy is smiling and happy and alive... and I understand. It really
was a great time in our lives because, even though we were juggling demons and homework on
a nightly basis, we felt that we were as safe. Or, as you could be on a hellmouth. And
Buffy had already beaten death once before, so it was like she was unstoppable. We
were unstoppable.
That whole 'unstoppable' vibe lasted for years.
Because we kinda were, really. We graduated and killed a demon mayor at the same time,
defeated Adam and the Initiative boys... It was like no matter what the PTB threw at us,
we could catch it and throw it right back at 'em. But Glory... We thought we were so
good... And we were. Just not good enough.
God I love her. And I miss her. And I have a
feeling that the ache in my chest isn't going to go away any time soon. Or, like,
ever.
