Because You Love Me

I look at myself and I know that I am bad. Bad girl. Bad Blair. Bad person. But the more I think, the more my addiction is fuelled. The more I strive, the further away the endgame seems. The more I look in the mirror, the more I can't face it. I can't face my own face in the morning, and it makes me sicker than I could ever make myself. I could look down deep into that white world I know so well, and I would still be disgusted to call this face – this body – mine. I look at that empty face and I know that I am bad.

They call it a sickness. A disease. Was Michelangelo, I ask, diseased when he carved David into that exact, impractical shape? Was Da Vinci mad when he painted the Mona Lisa's secretive smile? There are doctors and therapists and relatives, and they all look at me and tell me that I am bad. I am bad and not beautiful, but I don't see how being good will make me beautiful either. They forbid me to purge, they forbid me to look, they forbid me to breathe – and all because I am bad in their eyes, and what I do is worse.

I feel myself with you because I know that you are worse. I know that you break the law, ride hard, shatter hearts into millions of tiny pieces. I know that you want me because you can't have me, fear me because you're scared. You're my best friend, my second heartbeat.

I can look at Serena and see that she is good. She is the milk and honey to my changeling, sunlight shining through the leaves. She is the flame in the darkness that every moth is attracted to, even the moths who promised to stay by my side no matter what occurred and no matter what manner of creature drew their eyes away. I love Serena because she is good, I love her because she is beautiful, and I love her because when she stays over I can wake up and see a good face next to mine.

You and I are well met in dark places. Well met and well matched, some say. We hold the secrets of this city between our clasped hands, and one shared look from our shared dark eyes is enough to bring even the proudest to their knees. You and I were made for each other, dark queen and even darker consort. That is why I seek the golden goodness of Nate and Serena, and that is why I hide from you when I need you most. If I can't see, then I don't need to fight. If I don't need to fight, I can never lose.

If a dream is bad, is it a nightmare? Is it a nightmare if you aren't afraid? I wasn't afraid when it all fell away and you saw me as I was. I wasn't afraid when you told me I wasn't bad. I am not afraid of the happiness you bring, even when I walk with Nate and have to content myself with treating you civilly. All that matters is that you and I know that every brush past and every accidental caress is deliberate, and that each and every line will be followed up in a locked room where no one can hear me say your name.

I am bad again. I am so bad because you aren't here to save me. I wait in unfamiliarity, not crying because I don't know who will see. That's the point – the most familiar person within a million miles, so it seems, is myself. When I know that you have seen my badness and loathed it, I hook myself a different kind of fish and return to the city to taunt with my latest catch. You don't care, you claim – so why is it that you push past his lies and try to open my own eyes for me?

You and I are well met in dark places. The lights are out and I know you are not who you say you are, because you taste like you and you feel like you and you hold me like you aren't scared of breaking the farce – the impenetrable barrier we have between us. I love you. I love you.

All that glitters is not gold. Once more you and I do battle, trying to save the ones we simultaneously love and hate. There are times when I think that the darkness will consume you, and times when I have to pull you back from the brink. I do things that will hurt you because I am bad, and because I am thinking of your face even as I mouth a name that is not yours. That is how you hold me still, and accuse me even when I cannot see you. And when you dismiss the words that will heal us both, I think that my heart is breaking.

For once in my life, I do not feel bad. I'm not second to Serena in Nate's eyes or my mother's eyes or anyone's eyes, really. I am good, I am good, I am good! – and you have proved it with your words. You save me with the promise of someone who wants me first, someone who has always wanted me first; and then the world falls away and I know that you see me, and you know me, and you love what you see. I am complete and whole and good and better and best...because you love me.

Fin.