~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I have a face I cannot show
I make the rules up as I go
It's try and love me if you can
Are you strong enough to be my man?"
~"Strong Enough" by Sheryl Crow~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I know exactly how they see me.
How everyone sees me.
Five feet eight inches of wilful, pugnacious Slytherin spitfire. With a tongue sharper than the knife I wear as a hairpin, and a wit more poisonous than the flawless draughts of bitter almonds that I know how to brew.
And yes, I am all these things. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, in every single way. And damn the wanker who dares think otherwise!
I have many names and titles, depending on who you talk to. If you talk to my friends, they'll tell you that I'm Fallon, 6th year Slytherin girl, their unofficial "fearless leader". They would tell you that although I'm not exactly the nicest or most sympathetic of people, I'm perfectly willing and able to come up with schemes to benefit them. Or smite anyone or anything up to the size of an ogre who had hurt them. Well... they'd tell you that... if they think you're worthy of their attention. And more likely than not, you aren't. So bugger off.
If you're not worth our time... you probably know me as Anderson, the icy Slytherin bitch-queen. The evil, maniacal, vicious virago who would as soon smite a bloke as look at him. The horrid bint who had emasculated more boys than all the other girls at the school, combined. I could kill you with my bare hands, poison you fifty different ways, and everyone knows it.
All of the above is true.
I am the way I am. It's my personality. And it's as valid a personality as any other.
Contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely incapable of emotion.
I have my friends.
They're wonderful, all of them. Everyone in her own way.
I see Akasha sitting on her couch, her hands occupied with her knitting. The fingers that are handling the deep green yarn are quick and deft, and one of them wears a sparkling ring. Silver with a moonstone surrounded by glittering emeralds. And although it cannot be seen from here, I know that engraved on the inside of the band are the words "MF to AN, forever" in script.
Akasha's going to be out of school by summertime. She and Flint will probably have a grand winter wedding, and comfort each other the rest of their lives.
A few feet away from her, Morrigun and Montague are happily curled up together on an oversized armchair, she in his lap, reading from a large book and whispering to each other in French. They're so happy and sweet, it's a running joke amongst us... the cute, almost-too-cute-to-be-Slytherin couple.
They'll marry after they leave and raise a houseful of little Quidditch players who know how to dance the Gavotte and speak five different languages.
Malice and Adrian Pucey are playing chess by the window... and snogging when they think that no one is looking. Kate and Kevin Bole are less shy about showing affection, and are snogging quite openly. I daresay that the Ancient Runes assignment that they were working on together... well, that will have to wait a while. Ravyn and Draco Malfoy are supposedly studying for their imminent OWLs in her room. Or at least... that's what they're calling it these days.
Even Persephone, Xanne, Calypso and Jeannie have someone. From other houses, at that!
I'm very happy for them. Really... Slytherin bitch or no, it's wonderful when my friends are happy and together and in their current states of bliss and...
I need to leave. I think I'm going to be sick.
God... I'm a horrible person. I really AM as bitchy as people see me. Even more so!
No one likes a bitch. Not even me. But that's the way it is. And I AM a bitch if seeing the very people I love so happy... makes me feel ill.
It never used to be like this.
I don't know. Why.
Actually, I do. I lied. I do know.
I live by my convictions. I do what I want to do, and I don't give a flying rodent's arse about what people have to say about that. If it is unacceptable for anyone that a woman can take care of herself and kick arse, if someone believes that a woman cannot be independent... or anything more than a sex object, I can and will tell that chauvinistic pillock just where he can shove those beliefs. I am Fallon Anderson, and I bow before no one.
Is this so wrong?
He must think so.
Oh... we get along well enough, I suppose... by our standards, anyway. The arguments happen about once a day, and one might say that we're friends, of sorts. At the very least, he is still possessed of a functioning reproductive system, and all his limbs.
It's always like this between us... we meet, we sneer at each other, and snarky remarks fly back and forth like the Quaffle during a Quidditch game. It's a balanced thing. Something that is well-established and therefore shouldn't be upset.
Right?
Oh... who am I kidding?
But that's not the way the world works. I know how they think. I know very, very well. And he's a person just like any of them.
Sure, he thinks I'm beautiful. Most people do. And just as surely, he thinks I'm a bitch. Well, I am. And that's unacceptable.
I can't change the way I am, and I can't change how people feel about that.
Bloody hell... bloody... sodding... ABOMINABLE hell!! I don't have to settle for anything less than someone who loves me the way I am! And I won't! Ever!
So why does it hurt so much when he doesn't?
Why did I let myself get into this shite? Why did I fall in love with someone who is just another bloke, like the rest of them?
It's never going to work. I won't settle for someone who can't accept me like I am. And I won't settle for anyone else. It's a bloody paradox.
I suppose it's only fair, isn't it? The mean and bitter one, the one who causes others pain... is the one hurt the most in the end.
I get what I deserve.
But don't I deserve love as well?
I suppose not. Seeing the way things are...
Excuse me... I think I need to go and break something before I go insane.
But I forget... I already am insane. And there is already something broken.
My heart.
Not that anyone will know. And if anyone suspects and tells... I'll kill them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I have a face I cannot show
I make the rules up as I go
It's try and love me if you can
Are you strong enough to be my man?"
~"Strong Enough" by Sheryl Crow~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I know exactly how they see me.
How everyone sees me.
Five feet eight inches of wilful, pugnacious Slytherin spitfire. With a tongue sharper than the knife I wear as a hairpin, and a wit more poisonous than the flawless draughts of bitter almonds that I know how to brew.
And yes, I am all these things. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, in every single way. And damn the wanker who dares think otherwise!
I have many names and titles, depending on who you talk to. If you talk to my friends, they'll tell you that I'm Fallon, 6th year Slytherin girl, their unofficial "fearless leader". They would tell you that although I'm not exactly the nicest or most sympathetic of people, I'm perfectly willing and able to come up with schemes to benefit them. Or smite anyone or anything up to the size of an ogre who had hurt them. Well... they'd tell you that... if they think you're worthy of their attention. And more likely than not, you aren't. So bugger off.
If you're not worth our time... you probably know me as Anderson, the icy Slytherin bitch-queen. The evil, maniacal, vicious virago who would as soon smite a bloke as look at him. The horrid bint who had emasculated more boys than all the other girls at the school, combined. I could kill you with my bare hands, poison you fifty different ways, and everyone knows it.
All of the above is true.
I am the way I am. It's my personality. And it's as valid a personality as any other.
Contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely incapable of emotion.
I have my friends.
They're wonderful, all of them. Everyone in her own way.
I see Akasha sitting on her couch, her hands occupied with her knitting. The fingers that are handling the deep green yarn are quick and deft, and one of them wears a sparkling ring. Silver with a moonstone surrounded by glittering emeralds. And although it cannot be seen from here, I know that engraved on the inside of the band are the words "MF to AN, forever" in script.
Akasha's going to be out of school by summertime. She and Flint will probably have a grand winter wedding, and comfort each other the rest of their lives.
A few feet away from her, Morrigun and Montague are happily curled up together on an oversized armchair, she in his lap, reading from a large book and whispering to each other in French. They're so happy and sweet, it's a running joke amongst us... the cute, almost-too-cute-to-be-Slytherin couple.
They'll marry after they leave and raise a houseful of little Quidditch players who know how to dance the Gavotte and speak five different languages.
Malice and Adrian Pucey are playing chess by the window... and snogging when they think that no one is looking. Kate and Kevin Bole are less shy about showing affection, and are snogging quite openly. I daresay that the Ancient Runes assignment that they were working on together... well, that will have to wait a while. Ravyn and Draco Malfoy are supposedly studying for their imminent OWLs in her room. Or at least... that's what they're calling it these days.
Even Persephone, Xanne, Calypso and Jeannie have someone. From other houses, at that!
I'm very happy for them. Really... Slytherin bitch or no, it's wonderful when my friends are happy and together and in their current states of bliss and...
I need to leave. I think I'm going to be sick.
God... I'm a horrible person. I really AM as bitchy as people see me. Even more so!
No one likes a bitch. Not even me. But that's the way it is. And I AM a bitch if seeing the very people I love so happy... makes me feel ill.
It never used to be like this.
I don't know. Why.
Actually, I do. I lied. I do know.
I live by my convictions. I do what I want to do, and I don't give a flying rodent's arse about what people have to say about that. If it is unacceptable for anyone that a woman can take care of herself and kick arse, if someone believes that a woman cannot be independent... or anything more than a sex object, I can and will tell that chauvinistic pillock just where he can shove those beliefs. I am Fallon Anderson, and I bow before no one.
Is this so wrong?
He must think so.
Oh... we get along well enough, I suppose... by our standards, anyway. The arguments happen about once a day, and one might say that we're friends, of sorts. At the very least, he is still possessed of a functioning reproductive system, and all his limbs.
It's always like this between us... we meet, we sneer at each other, and snarky remarks fly back and forth like the Quaffle during a Quidditch game. It's a balanced thing. Something that is well-established and therefore shouldn't be upset.
Right?
Oh... who am I kidding?
But that's not the way the world works. I know how they think. I know very, very well. And he's a person just like any of them.
Sure, he thinks I'm beautiful. Most people do. And just as surely, he thinks I'm a bitch. Well, I am. And that's unacceptable.
I can't change the way I am, and I can't change how people feel about that.
Bloody hell... bloody... sodding... ABOMINABLE hell!! I don't have to settle for anything less than someone who loves me the way I am! And I won't! Ever!
So why does it hurt so much when he doesn't?
Why did I let myself get into this shite? Why did I fall in love with someone who is just another bloke, like the rest of them?
It's never going to work. I won't settle for someone who can't accept me like I am. And I won't settle for anyone else. It's a bloody paradox.
I suppose it's only fair, isn't it? The mean and bitter one, the one who causes others pain... is the one hurt the most in the end.
I get what I deserve.
But don't I deserve love as well?
I suppose not. Seeing the way things are...
Excuse me... I think I need to go and break something before I go insane.
But I forget... I already am insane. And there is already something broken.
My heart.
Not that anyone will know. And if anyone suspects and tells... I'll kill them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~