"In the Right Direction"
By Shana E.
It was her. I never thought I'd see her again but here she was. She represented the lost years: when I had been hurt and betrayed, when I had been a shell of a person, a little lost princess, my head filled with fairytales with all the wrong images. She had been my other half, the unattainable, the unreachable, she even seemed to be perfection. She was the only one I cared about, I envyed her so much it hurt to even see her face. She had peacefullness, she had everything alien to me. Looks, popularity, friends, stability. Not to mention the money, but I didn't care about the money. She was celebrated, respected, admired and... loved.
I guess I resented her the most for that. That she was allowed the one thing I wanted, the one thing I desparatly needed. She was loved by so many, they all knew they were fighting an uphill battle for her, but none of them cared. I ached for someone, _anyone_ to lavish the same attention on me that they all gave her, but was scorned when I approached any one of them. I would watch her sometimes, flirting idly. She really didn't care that she was leading them on, but at that time I didn't see that. All I saw was someone who was entitled to their love, someone who had somehow *earned* it. She was *supposed* to have many followers, that was the natural order of things, and I missed the boat. I spent hours torturing myself, thinking how wonderful she was. If only I could be like her I knew all of my problems would be solved. I would have given anything to be her, if only for a brief moment. I even considered running off, but of course that wouldn't work, I thought. I had made myself helpless, and however much I hated that, I couldn't escape it. At least, that's what I was told.
Oh, father never came right out and said it, but he didn't have to put it into words. It was in the way I was given money whenever I asked. It was in the way he never bothered trying to make me go to college, and had let me pursue a crazy dream. I suppose it wouldn't be fair to blame him, but he never even let me have a summer job! He'd just tell me that I didn't need a job, he'd give me the money I needed. Then father even tried to make me feel guilty for wanting a job, when it could go to someone who had less money than we did! I had quite an elegant little charade going on, but it was still just that. A meaningless charade.
That's why my marriage was such a disaster. I had depended on father for so long, I just found someone else to depend on. There wasn't even any love involved. I needed someone to take care of me, to get me out of the messes I always seemed to put myself in. I thought I found freedom from my suffocating life at home (I lived with father until I was 25), but I had just escaped one prison for another.
It didn't come as much of a shock when I found out he was having an affair. What did come as a shock was when I found out who it was. It was her. The same woman I had tried to model myself after. Oh sure, I did know they had had something going eight years ago, but I had thought that she was out of my life for good.
I didn't know what to do, so I came home to live with father again. He took care of everything again, even my divorce. I thought I would feel so wonderful when my ex lost everything (He did, thanks to father's lawyers), but I felt empty. It was only money after all.
One day I realized I had to get away. I had let other people run my life for me for long enough. So I moved into my own place, where times were tough. I had few job skills and even fewer people skills. Still, even when father would offer me money, I refused. For once in my life, I wanted to be responsible for myself. I wanted to prove to the world that I could do something on my own. I wanted to prove that I could be myself, and forget about *her*.
Despite all this, the best thing I did was get help. I called up an old friend from before I was married, and from the one time in my life I had been independant... sort of. I made arrangements to move in with her. She was in the same boat I was, living alone, barely making ends meet. I got a job waitressing with her, and we had the time of our lives getting each other out of (and into) trouble.
She told me about a woman she knew, a counsellor. I don't know how she did it, but she conviced me to go see her. She helped me to realize that I had been very dependent when I was young, and I had been raised as a "little princess", having everything handed to me on a silver platter. I realized that my very aggressive nature had just been there to hide the worthlessness that I felt inside. I had never been given the chance to do anything, everything was done for me. I had felt like I could do nothing.
I was learning a lot about myself, and my self confidence was slowly coming back, like a plant growing back again after the winter frost. But today, on the way back from one of my sessions, it all changed. I saw her. I never thought I'd see her again but here she was.
The self-hate was coming back. The fear was coming back. I had to fight the sinking feeling. I breathed in and tried to change my expression to one of happy surprise, rather then the horror that was showing before. I watched as she approached me, a friendly smile on her face.
"Excuse me," she started. I quickly planned my response, a host of bland pleasantries.
"Could you tell me the way to Milic Street? I'm afraid I've lost my way. Its so windy the map blew right out of my hands!" she finished with an apologetic half-smile.
I stared at her, agape. She couldn't be serious. After I agonized for years over her. I had even, at one time, planned word-for-word the speech I would give her if I ever saw her again, complete with rebuttles for every possible insult she could deliver. But this? This was wrong. This was anti-climatic. This was not how it was supposed to happen. I had no rebuttle for this insult. I had at least expected a glimmer of remembrance. Instead, the woman who destroyed ten years of my life doesn't even remember me?
"...Miss?" she said to me with concern.
I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to go home right now.
"Milic Street?" I said quietly. She nodded eagerly, and I considered giving her the wrong directions. I didn't have the nerve.
"Follow this street until you reach Newell street. Take a left and go five blocks. At the lights, turn either left or right, it doesn't matter, you're on Milic." I felt dizzy. I was starting to see little white blotches in my vision, while the world around them went dim.
"Thank you!" she called, already running in the right direction.
After she left, I stood there for at least ten minutes, willing her with every fibre of my being to come back and say "Hey, I remember you! How are you?".
After a while, I just left. She wasn't coming back. She had found her way, no point in me just waiting for her to return.
I headed home.
Author's notes: Wow, I don't know where that came from! Was that too melodramatic? But as I always say, there's no drama like melodrama!!! I just sat down at the computer and wrote. It was based on an idea where Pizzazz met Jerrica on a street corner, and they finally made up. But as I was writing, this ending seemed to come into mind. I really hate Pizzazz, and I just wanted to try to see her as a person and not just a... witch. Oh, and if you're wondering who the husband is, I'm not telling! You'll just have to draw your own conclusions. I can actually think of three possibilities. The friend she stayed with can be any of the Misfits, I like Stormer as the person myself, but it could also be Roxy or Jetta.
I guess the idea behind this fic is that the victors write history. Since Jem (the TV show) was about Jerrica, naturally all of the characters would be based on her perspective of them. By writing from another character's viewpoint, I just wanted to show that not everything is as it seems. I'm not saying Jerrica is a self-centered little ditz, or that Pizzazz is even able to change, but I am saying that the TV show, since Pizzazz and Jerrica fell into villian and hero categories, they were very sterotypical. I'm just trying to bust them out of a rut.
I also wanted to leave a lot of loose ends. This seemed like the kind of story that shouldn't be wrapped up in a nice neat little package. I know that a lot of people think that Pizzazz will be stuck as a selfish little child her entire life and Jerrica will continue to mature. I wanted to switch that around a little, and show a grown-up side to Pizzazz and hint at Jerrica's immaturaty. I've always tended to think that Pizzazz will have a happy life, thought maybe not a successful one.
Anyway, I had fun writing this and hopefully you had fun reading it! I will write another "perspective" story. I find they're a good way to stop hating characters so much. :)
See you later!
By Shana E.
It was her. I never thought I'd see her again but here she was. She represented the lost years: when I had been hurt and betrayed, when I had been a shell of a person, a little lost princess, my head filled with fairytales with all the wrong images. She had been my other half, the unattainable, the unreachable, she even seemed to be perfection. She was the only one I cared about, I envyed her so much it hurt to even see her face. She had peacefullness, she had everything alien to me. Looks, popularity, friends, stability. Not to mention the money, but I didn't care about the money. She was celebrated, respected, admired and... loved.
I guess I resented her the most for that. That she was allowed the one thing I wanted, the one thing I desparatly needed. She was loved by so many, they all knew they were fighting an uphill battle for her, but none of them cared. I ached for someone, _anyone_ to lavish the same attention on me that they all gave her, but was scorned when I approached any one of them. I would watch her sometimes, flirting idly. She really didn't care that she was leading them on, but at that time I didn't see that. All I saw was someone who was entitled to their love, someone who had somehow *earned* it. She was *supposed* to have many followers, that was the natural order of things, and I missed the boat. I spent hours torturing myself, thinking how wonderful she was. If only I could be like her I knew all of my problems would be solved. I would have given anything to be her, if only for a brief moment. I even considered running off, but of course that wouldn't work, I thought. I had made myself helpless, and however much I hated that, I couldn't escape it. At least, that's what I was told.
Oh, father never came right out and said it, but he didn't have to put it into words. It was in the way I was given money whenever I asked. It was in the way he never bothered trying to make me go to college, and had let me pursue a crazy dream. I suppose it wouldn't be fair to blame him, but he never even let me have a summer job! He'd just tell me that I didn't need a job, he'd give me the money I needed. Then father even tried to make me feel guilty for wanting a job, when it could go to someone who had less money than we did! I had quite an elegant little charade going on, but it was still just that. A meaningless charade.
That's why my marriage was such a disaster. I had depended on father for so long, I just found someone else to depend on. There wasn't even any love involved. I needed someone to take care of me, to get me out of the messes I always seemed to put myself in. I thought I found freedom from my suffocating life at home (I lived with father until I was 25), but I had just escaped one prison for another.
It didn't come as much of a shock when I found out he was having an affair. What did come as a shock was when I found out who it was. It was her. The same woman I had tried to model myself after. Oh sure, I did know they had had something going eight years ago, but I had thought that she was out of my life for good.
I didn't know what to do, so I came home to live with father again. He took care of everything again, even my divorce. I thought I would feel so wonderful when my ex lost everything (He did, thanks to father's lawyers), but I felt empty. It was only money after all.
One day I realized I had to get away. I had let other people run my life for me for long enough. So I moved into my own place, where times were tough. I had few job skills and even fewer people skills. Still, even when father would offer me money, I refused. For once in my life, I wanted to be responsible for myself. I wanted to prove to the world that I could do something on my own. I wanted to prove that I could be myself, and forget about *her*.
Despite all this, the best thing I did was get help. I called up an old friend from before I was married, and from the one time in my life I had been independant... sort of. I made arrangements to move in with her. She was in the same boat I was, living alone, barely making ends meet. I got a job waitressing with her, and we had the time of our lives getting each other out of (and into) trouble.
She told me about a woman she knew, a counsellor. I don't know how she did it, but she conviced me to go see her. She helped me to realize that I had been very dependent when I was young, and I had been raised as a "little princess", having everything handed to me on a silver platter. I realized that my very aggressive nature had just been there to hide the worthlessness that I felt inside. I had never been given the chance to do anything, everything was done for me. I had felt like I could do nothing.
I was learning a lot about myself, and my self confidence was slowly coming back, like a plant growing back again after the winter frost. But today, on the way back from one of my sessions, it all changed. I saw her. I never thought I'd see her again but here she was.
The self-hate was coming back. The fear was coming back. I had to fight the sinking feeling. I breathed in and tried to change my expression to one of happy surprise, rather then the horror that was showing before. I watched as she approached me, a friendly smile on her face.
"Excuse me," she started. I quickly planned my response, a host of bland pleasantries.
"Could you tell me the way to Milic Street? I'm afraid I've lost my way. Its so windy the map blew right out of my hands!" she finished with an apologetic half-smile.
I stared at her, agape. She couldn't be serious. After I agonized for years over her. I had even, at one time, planned word-for-word the speech I would give her if I ever saw her again, complete with rebuttles for every possible insult she could deliver. But this? This was wrong. This was anti-climatic. This was not how it was supposed to happen. I had no rebuttle for this insult. I had at least expected a glimmer of remembrance. Instead, the woman who destroyed ten years of my life doesn't even remember me?
"...Miss?" she said to me with concern.
I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to go home right now.
"Milic Street?" I said quietly. She nodded eagerly, and I considered giving her the wrong directions. I didn't have the nerve.
"Follow this street until you reach Newell street. Take a left and go five blocks. At the lights, turn either left or right, it doesn't matter, you're on Milic." I felt dizzy. I was starting to see little white blotches in my vision, while the world around them went dim.
"Thank you!" she called, already running in the right direction.
After she left, I stood there for at least ten minutes, willing her with every fibre of my being to come back and say "Hey, I remember you! How are you?".
After a while, I just left. She wasn't coming back. She had found her way, no point in me just waiting for her to return.
I headed home.
Author's notes: Wow, I don't know where that came from! Was that too melodramatic? But as I always say, there's no drama like melodrama!!! I just sat down at the computer and wrote. It was based on an idea where Pizzazz met Jerrica on a street corner, and they finally made up. But as I was writing, this ending seemed to come into mind. I really hate Pizzazz, and I just wanted to try to see her as a person and not just a... witch. Oh, and if you're wondering who the husband is, I'm not telling! You'll just have to draw your own conclusions. I can actually think of three possibilities. The friend she stayed with can be any of the Misfits, I like Stormer as the person myself, but it could also be Roxy or Jetta.
I guess the idea behind this fic is that the victors write history. Since Jem (the TV show) was about Jerrica, naturally all of the characters would be based on her perspective of them. By writing from another character's viewpoint, I just wanted to show that not everything is as it seems. I'm not saying Jerrica is a self-centered little ditz, or that Pizzazz is even able to change, but I am saying that the TV show, since Pizzazz and Jerrica fell into villian and hero categories, they were very sterotypical. I'm just trying to bust them out of a rut.
I also wanted to leave a lot of loose ends. This seemed like the kind of story that shouldn't be wrapped up in a nice neat little package. I know that a lot of people think that Pizzazz will be stuck as a selfish little child her entire life and Jerrica will continue to mature. I wanted to switch that around a little, and show a grown-up side to Pizzazz and hint at Jerrica's immaturaty. I've always tended to think that Pizzazz will have a happy life, thought maybe not a successful one.
Anyway, I had fun writing this and hopefully you had fun reading it! I will write another "perspective" story. I find they're a good way to stop hating characters so much. :)
See you later!