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Blair, episode 1x13

You're running away under the cover of darkness like some common fugitive, it would make for an interesting narrative twist if you ever wanted to write your life as a thriller but right now you're not in the mood for stories of any kind; besides you never cared that much for action plots. Maybe on some unacknowledged level you think a semester away will be enough to clean the slate; erase this bad script and allow for a new story to be written. People could miss you and in the midst of missing you they would forget, everything...

You scoff at yourself, because even you see the flaws in that tale; you may be a master at perfecting your own life but you know enough of the world to know nobody is willing to overlook others' past mistakes out of the goodness of their hearts, after all, you saw how people treated you today. You know how they, how you, have treated others in the past. There's nothing generous about the Upper East Side and the only way for people to live down their mistakes is if they're the only ones to know about them. At least that's what you used to think, now you know not even sure that is true. There are too many unknown factors to control events, secrets always come out and life cannot be tailored; but if that's the case then no fairy tale you could ever try to spin has a chance of coming true. So that's it then; stories are never real and, if anything, this week has taught you no matter how pink you try to paint reality you can't conceal the creases. So what's the point in fighting if it's all doomed to come to nothing in the end?

Still, as you're standing on the helipad surrounded by suitcases and watching that yellow cab approach you can't help the involuntary flutter in your stomach, because it could be, couldn't it? It could be the one time where life actually goes according to plan. It could be, would be perfect, after all; a disillusioned girl giving up on romance being reminded that it actually does exist. Sure you might have been forced to accept that your life is not as picture perfect as you tried to paint it but what if it's them who were all wrong, what if you can will a thing hard enough for it to happen? Before you know it you've been tricked into thinking those treacherous thoughts: 'If my life was like a movie he'd step out of the taxi and tell me the past didn't matter, that I shouldn't go, that he loved me and all he wanted was for us to be together, that together we will brave the world.'

You're not willing to consider the implications of the vagueness of 'he'. Why, when you allow the images to run past your inner eye your hero's face is a blur, indistinguishable. The fact is, just now you're not even sure who it is you want to come and save you; whether you want it to be the love of your seventeen-year old life, the beautiful golden boy who was the foundation of all your dreams and hopes until a few months ago or the despicable, devil Lothario who opened doors to new experiences; pleasure and cruelty and mixed-up emotions and a life without masks, without expectations, without rules. Nate or Chuck, a white knight or a dark prince? Right now it doesn't matter, you just want one of them to come and kiss everything away, make the sound of Monday sound less daunting than it does this minute.

Your hopes are crushed before they really gain foothold though, because of course it's neither of the boys who exits the car; it's Serena. The echo of an earlier remark suddenly ringing mockingly in your ears: 'You act like you're in this movie about your perfect life, but I have to remind you that the only one watching it is you.' It hurts too much when you have to admit that that's exactly what has happened once again. The truth is you might tell your story better than anyone but what does it matter if no one's convinced by it except yourself? Nate and Chuck are not going to save you; they made that crystal clear already when they demonstrated just how little they thought of you. 'You understand perfectly'... 'I'll try to be more succinct'... 'I want nothing else to do with you'... 'rode hard and put away wet'... 'you and Chuck deserve each other.'... 'I don't want you anymore and I can't see why anyone else would.' It's pathetic really, this desperate hanging on to a belief that a taxi can bring a fairy tale ending. It's even more humiliating when reality once again falls short.

Still, you try to hide your disappointment, greeting the reality that did come in the taxis tow with a raised head: 'What? You want a lift to JFK?' because even if you've lost it doesn't mean you have to show it. It's common Waldorf survival strategy. But it doesn't last long because reality is shaped like Serena and not only is she your best friend she's also too deeply entangled in all this mess to make reality feel anything but a cold, harsh and unappealing fact. She intensifies the hurt and the shame by a thousand degrees and you feel the tears brimming in your eyes because it's all too bitter a pill to swallow. 'Everything's horrible. My whole life's falling apart.' But then, just as you are throwing in the white flag, crying 'Surrender' with those unbidden tears sliding down your cheek because this battle is too hard to fight on your own it's as if things change; maybe it's that you realise that you're not alone, maybe it's that Serena's the one person who can give reality that silver lining.

Maybe it's the way she tells your story; the way she admits that not all you conjured up was a fairy tale: talking as if being Blair Waldorf still means something, giving the impression that it might mean more than what you first thought because she's telling you a story where that name can bring you to recover not just from today's humiliation, but to raise above it too. Maybe it's the way she points to an alternative, maybe it's the way she reminds you that you've always been more than what a dirty, deriding blast from Gossip Girl makes you out to be. It's probably the way she promises to stand by your side, always. But most definitely it's the way she's making you realise that even if she's not Nate, even if she's not Chuck she's uttering words that resemble your mental script so much you hardly know if in fact you didn't write it.

'Stay... People don't tell you who you are, you tell them... I'll fight with you... Start over... We'll get through this together...'

No, it's not the movie ending you wished for; you haven't been saved and she can't protect you from the shame and the scorn and the nine circles of Hell awaiting you when school resumes but she's here when nobody else is, she's here after you've hurled abuse after her to escape facing your own demons, she's here giving you a reason to stay when you were ready to fly away. And maybe this, staying, is the tougher choice, there's a reason everybody else runs. But to you it was never a question of what's the easiest; it was question of survival; maintaining a hold on your dreams, keeping your life in control because for a minute there you felt you lost it, felt your life came crashing down and you with no ideas of how to salvage... anything. It just goes to show how wrong you were because all you really needed was an alternative ending and Serena's giving you the words to write it.

So maybe this is not the romantic solution to a tragic, passionate love triangle, maybe it's not the heartbreaking story of a girl who loses everything and has to pay the price, maybe putting your life in those terms are too grandiose anyway, too deeply immersed in a drama that doesn't reflect life. Maybe this is just another nasty hiccup in your everyday coming-of-age story; the story of a girl, any girl, who has her heart broken and learns that what doesn't break you, only makes you stronger.

(You think you'd like it better if it didn't make you out to be quite so ordinary).