Title: Something Like
Author: Semby
Character: Dawn
Summary: Dawn doing a
little introspection.
Disclaimer: I have no
rights to Btvs; I'm not making any profit.
It's something like…
Like when you're a kid, and you first learn to ride a bike. When you look back, and you realize dad's not holding on anymore, guiding you along. You're doing it by yourself. Not the first time, of course, because you're always pissed the first time. He said he wouldn't let go. He promised.
No, it's more like the second time. When he's said he won't do it again, but if he does it's only because he knows you're ready. The second time, you look back and he's not holding on anymore. You're doing it by yourself and instead of feeling betrayed, you feel… invincible.
It's something like that.
xxxxx
It's something like…
Like the first time you look at a boy and those cootie things you were so repelled by just last year don't seem to be a problem anymore. You suddenly find yourself wondering, for the first time, what it would be like to have his arms around you, his lips on yours.
It's something like that.
It's also something like hearing that same boy tell his friend that you've got a cute nose, but you're a little too tall and dorky. It's also something like your big sister finding the whole ordeal in the diary you mistakenly lay open on your bed next to the shirt you borrowed from her, maybe without her permission. It something like the way you feel when she teases you about it over the dinner table that night.
Maybe it's more like getting your revenge by reading her diary for years afterwards. But your clever plot of revenge might lead you to find out a secret about her that maybe you weren't quite ready to know, and that makes you feel… scared.
It's something a little more like that.
xxxxx
It's something like…
Like moving to a new town, and leaving Daddy behind. You wonder if he ever really loved you at all, because if he did, he wouldn't be able to stand being so far away, would he? He'd make an effort to see you a little more often than twice a year. Your birthday, if you're lucky.
It's something like wondering if it's your fault, or her fault, because you're both a little different, somehow. You can't help wondering if fathers don't prefer daughters that are just a little more like everyone else, and it makes you feel… lacking.
It's something like that.
xxxxx
It's something like…
Like approaching a man, not a boy, and trying out a new phrase you learned in this strange new language, and having him smile back at you. It's feeling, for once, that you're not awkward, you're sexy. Because you'd have to be, for him to look at you like that. It's something like letting him sweep you off your feet and not letting your stupid fears and everyone else's stupid expectations get in the way of what you want.
It's also a little something like going all the way for the first time to prove to him, to prove to yourself, to prove to all those people who you'll never even tell about this that you're not the little girl they think you are, only to realize later that it's probably not what you really wanted. You know you can't even cry on her shoulder when you go home, because she'd just tell you that you shouldn't have taken such a step unless you were sure. And he still looks charmed by you, and he says he'll call you, and he has no idea that anything's wrong and it makes you feel… foolish.
It's something like that.
xxxxx
It's something like…
Like being told your mom's gone, and not believing it when you're told it didn't hurt. Because you can't believe that she could have possibly hurt less than you're hurting now, and you hurt too much to bear. You know she felt pain. And you know that your sister found the body, you know that that had to be so much worse, you know that deep down she wants to cry and say how much it hurts but that she won't because she wants to be the one who carries the burden of that pain.
It's something like realizing you've just broken down in front of all of your classmates and for a moment, just one moment, the embarrassment has become stronger than the sense of loss. You find yourself feeling worse, feeling guilty, and hating yourself for letting what they think of you, even for an instant, be more important than the fact that your mother is dead. Your guilt and your grief start to consume you and it makes you feel… destroyed.
It's something like that.
xxxxx
It's something like…
Like finding out you were never real. And you know that's not the whole truth; you know you're real now because you bleed. Because they see you, and because they tell you they love you and that it doesn't matter.
Even now, you can't remember anything different. You can't remember when it was, and no one's been able to tell you. One day you were a ball of energy, the next you were a girl. You have no idea whether that day was a year ago, years ago, days ago, or yesterday. You wonder how much you've really aged, and it makes you feel…deceived.
It's something like that.
xxxxx
It's something like a lot of things, really.
It's passion, it's heartbreak, it's love, it's pain – it's a lot of feelings you won't ever be able to describe in words. It's learning, it's living, it's making a lot of really stupid mistakes. It's realizing that what was, and what might be, just can't be as important to you as what is.
This growing up thing. This finding out who you really are thing. This getting hurt and getting stronger and hating and forgiving and letting go thing. It takes practice, and it makes you feel…
It's something – it feels a little something like –