Britney fic
Mar. 12th, 2002 09:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflyForsaken
The dim light in the room made her reflection hard to see, but Britney didn't want to turn the lights up. She'd had enough light for one day.
Sometimes, she stared at her reflection for as long as an hour before going to sleep. The habit had started years ago, after the first time that anyone had told her that she was the most beautiful girl that they'd ever seen.
She couldn't remember who'd said that first, all of the faces and names were just a blur now.
But she remembered looking into the mirror that night and losing herself in it, trying to pick out what made her special, made her beautiful.
She hadn't seen it then.
She still couldn't.
But every night, she looked, hoping that she would see something different in the mirror this time, instead of skin that had changed from too pale to too dark and hair that had gone from too dark to too light.
Everything about her was too something.
Without the cameras and the lights, she always felt lost. When she was alone in her room, no one told her what to do.
So she stared at herself in the mirror and wondered why.
Sometimes it was a specific why, like why was she the star or why didn't Justin kiss her when the cameras weren't on them, but most of the time, she flitted from question to question, not really searching for any answers but for the right question.
Maybe, if she knew what to ask, everything would make sense.
When she was surrounded by people, she didn't have the chance to ask any questions. No one really listened to her anyway. When she tried to ask them, they would tell her to run along and maybe do some crunches, leave the thinking to them.
But alone in her room, staring at her own face, she found herself asking questions that no one had ever told her to think about.
She knew that she'd never have the courage to ask any of her questions, but there couldn't be anything wrong about just thinking and wondering. And if there was, she didn't care. Not when she was alone with her reflection.
Devoid of make-up, her face looks plain and boring. Her lips are barely even pink anymore and her eyes are already starting to look old. She's starting to look old.
Worse, she's starting to feel old. She can understand why Wade decided to get out of choreography. Everything about this place is eating her alive, but she can't see any way out of it.
This is her life. She can't remember a time when she wasn't under a spotlight. Even back then, she remembers the burn to make everyone happy. It still burns in her, but it's just an ember now, fading more each day.
She wants to live. Wants to be something more, something better.
But she doesn't know how to start.
And her reflection doesn't have any answers.
The dim light in the room made her reflection hard to see, but Britney didn't want to turn the lights up. She'd had enough light for one day.
Sometimes, she stared at her reflection for as long as an hour before going to sleep. The habit had started years ago, after the first time that anyone had told her that she was the most beautiful girl that they'd ever seen.
She couldn't remember who'd said that first, all of the faces and names were just a blur now.
But she remembered looking into the mirror that night and losing herself in it, trying to pick out what made her special, made her beautiful.
She hadn't seen it then.
She still couldn't.
But every night, she looked, hoping that she would see something different in the mirror this time, instead of skin that had changed from too pale to too dark and hair that had gone from too dark to too light.
Everything about her was too something.
Without the cameras and the lights, she always felt lost. When she was alone in her room, no one told her what to do.
So she stared at herself in the mirror and wondered why.
Sometimes it was a specific why, like why was she the star or why didn't Justin kiss her when the cameras weren't on them, but most of the time, she flitted from question to question, not really searching for any answers but for the right question.
Maybe, if she knew what to ask, everything would make sense.
When she was surrounded by people, she didn't have the chance to ask any questions. No one really listened to her anyway. When she tried to ask them, they would tell her to run along and maybe do some crunches, leave the thinking to them.
But alone in her room, staring at her own face, she found herself asking questions that no one had ever told her to think about.
She knew that she'd never have the courage to ask any of her questions, but there couldn't be anything wrong about just thinking and wondering. And if there was, she didn't care. Not when she was alone with her reflection.
Devoid of make-up, her face looks plain and boring. Her lips are barely even pink anymore and her eyes are already starting to look old. She's starting to look old.
Worse, she's starting to feel old. She can understand why Wade decided to get out of choreography. Everything about this place is eating her alive, but she can't see any way out of it.
This is her life. She can't remember a time when she wasn't under a spotlight. Even back then, she remembers the burn to make everyone happy. It still burns in her, but it's just an ember now, fading more each day.
She wants to live. Wants to be something more, something better.
But she doesn't know how to start.
And her reflection doesn't have any answers.
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(no subject)
Date: 2002-03-12 09:50 am (UTC)that was gorgeous doll.
more?
Re:
Date: 2002-03-12 09:54 am (UTC)And about more?
I don't know yet. I never know. It's very frustrating. Sometimes, I think that my brain hates me.