Less Like Them, More Like Me

Less Like Them, More Like Me

"Wake me up inside.

Call my name and save me from the dark."

~Bring Me to Life, Evanescence

Prologue:

You're perfect, and you know it. You have everything. Money and power. You're handsome. Girls would do anything for you, and you know that, too. But it's not a girl that you want, is it? No, that's not what you want.

You want something else, but no one knows what it is. You won't let them. If they knew, you wouldn't be perfect anymore, would you? You'd be a freak. Because what you want something forbidden to you. Something unknown, and the unknown is dangerous and cruel.

I am the unknown.

Everything that is offered to you is pushed away, because that's not what you want. Girls aren't what you want. But you pretend and put on a show because everyone is watching you. It's your audience, and you are what they want you to be.

Composed. Handsome. Smart. Quick-witted.

I'm perfect.

So you are, on the outside. But what about inside, huh? Are you perfect there?

No.

You feel empty, drained, always trying to live up to expectations, and you're tired. Exhausted. Others don't see it. Others can't see it. Not even you see it, because it's not on the surface. But you feel it, don't you? You feel it with every breath you take, every step, every damn thing you do.

Yes.

Are you weary of it?

Yes. Yes, I am.

Yet there is one thing that doesn't tire you, and that's what you want. You want him, don't you? He's so alive, he shines. You can't help but notice him. He's nothing you've ever experienced. He's good. He can't be cruel, not like you can. He's your exact opposite.

Opposites attract.

Maybe.

I hate you.

Perhaps. But is it me you hate, or yourself?

I hate everyone.

Except...

Except him.

How weak.

No...

How feeble.

I'm not...

So powerless to resist your audience. You're not different. You're an actor, following a script for life. You're just like everyone else.

I want...

Something else? You want something other than him?

I want to be less like them...

Oh?

And more like me.

Why? Why would you want to be different? What is so hard about following everyone? It's easier to follow the current of a river than to try and sail upstream.

I know...

It would hurt.

I want it to hurt.

You hate pain.

I hate not being able to feel pain. I hate feeling dead.

You would rather be in anguish? Your pain tolerance barely rises above zero. You can't handle pain and hurt. You are weak, you are fallible and frail. You would break; snap in half like a twig. I know you. Any sign of sweat and you will quit. You will give up, because it's easier to lay down.

Not this time. I will win this time. I want to sweat. I want to smell my own sweat. I want to taste blood and tears. I want to feel pain.

Whose pain?

My pain. I want to feel my pain.

All for him? Everyone's golden boy?

Yes. I want him to see the real me.

He will see the broken you. That's what you will become. Broken.

Then that's what I want him to see.

You would break for him? You would cry and bleed and scream with the pain and agony of it, for him?

I would die for him.

And if you die, you will never feel his warmth or his love. He won't miss you.

And if I die now, no one will miss me.

What of Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise?

They don't care if I'm living or dead. To them, I'm just something to look at, a decoration. Something to dream of shagging. Something faraway and mystical.

Isn't it nice to be appreciated?

It would be nice to be loved.