Hope's a Bitch


by
Jackson




Should just stake myself.

Or maybe fix myself a nice cool drink of Holy Water.

Maybe a stroll in the sun, or a combination of them all.

I mean why the hell not?

No Dark Princess.

No scourge of Europe.

No feeding.

No killing.

Can't hardly even scare people anymore.

Why the hell not.

What the HELL have I got to live for?

Should just put an end to this fucking pathetic existence I'm struggling through.

Cause HE certainly wouldn't care.

Oh no. Wouldn't give a toss.

Alexander Lavelle Harris.

Xander.

Wonder what he'd say when he found out I was dust? Probably volunteer to kick it around a little.

Bastard.

I hate him.

I love him.

I hate him.

I hate him for not seeing me.

For not seeing this. For being so fucking blind he can't see an opportunity when it's staring him in the face. I mean how blind do you have to be to not see a peroxide vampire practically begging "Notice me! Notice me!"

How blind do you have to be to not see I'm burning up here? Just aching for him.

How deaf do you have to be to not hear all the words I can't say?

I only want him to think of me.

Whenever I'm a good guy he ignores me and whenever I'm a bastard he insults me.

I know which I prefer.

Hey he might see me as an ignorant, arrogant, rude, hurtful wanker.

But at least he's seeing me.

In a heartbreaking, hates my guts kind of way.

So why haven't I done it?

Every night I sit outside and drink a bottle of something, wondering if this is the night I finally get set free, waiting for the sun to rise and every dawning morning I scuttle back into my crypt and wait for the time to pass before I can go and find him again. And then do the same again the next night.

It'd make things a helluva lot easier for me if I could just do it. No more feeling like my guts have been ripped out of me. No more having to watch him with the demon bitch.

Can't bear to see him with her.

Can't bear it.

Just stake in the heart, or sunlight on the skin and peace and rest.

And emptiness, and loneliness. And no more catching a glimpse of him and feeling hurt and hope and like I've found something I didn't even know I'd lost. No more seeing warmth in his dark eyes, feeling like I'm standing in the sun without fearing for my undead hide.

Everything.

Everything tied up in a dark haired, dark eyed, wisecracking, sunshine and steel package.

Loves bitch, oh yeah. That's me alright.

Can't make it that easy on myself.

No that's me, I'll hold on 'till the end. I'll wait until he's dead. Because like it or not, I'm his.

Read this line somewhere once when I was still human, stuck with me forever. It went something like,

"Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."

Ain't that the fucking truth.

So I'm bearing and I'm believing and I'm hoping and I'm enduring. Because that's love for you.

Because he saved me once. He must think that there's something worth saving there.

And that gives me hope.

And he doesn't love the demon bitch.

And that gives me hope.

And he does look at me sometimes. Like he's almost wondering . . .what would it be like?

And that gives me hope.

And that's why I haven't done it yet.

Hope keeps me clinging on against a tide of self hatred and jealousy and unrequited love and screaming hurt.

No rest for the wicked. And no peace for loves bitch, cling on against all the odds. Hoping against hope.

Hope's a bitch.




The End





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