Postcards From The EdgePractice Makes Perfect
Willow's Diary: November 7, 1999
My head hurts. I've been brooding over so many things: Oz, Spike, Buffy, Xander, school, but mostly Oz... and Spike. I figure it was high time I tried to make some sense of it all. Alleviate my worries, you know, that sort of thing. What better way to do it than to write in here.
I just don't know how to feel about the any of anything. Spike specifically has affected me beyond mere normal fear. I had no idea there were so many levels to that emotion, each one inciting a new kind of moan, a new scream, new sweat. He's reached into my being. Across countries, he has tapped into mind and I cannot help but imagine his feeds and his murders. I see him in my head practicing, killing me over and over.
I'm afraid and yet I feel so guilty. I feel partly to blame for the deaths of his victims. I still haven't told Buffy. A part of me says, "Go tell her, you big baby!", but another part of me knows that there really isn't a lot Buffy can do. She can't run off to South America, to all those places on the postcards; Spike would be gone by the time she arrived. How would Buffy track him? And I don't want Buffy to think that I need her to hold my hand, while sorting my mail. She's recently made it quite clear that Xander and I are somewhat burdening.
Oh Diary, there's just so many changes this year, so much to consider, so much slipping through my fingers. I'm not used to having so little control over certain elements in my life. So much crap to deal with. There's the workload at school, which is heavy. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy it, but it's tough work, especially when you're brooding on other things. School? The least of my worries, but still a contributing factor to my state of mind.
Then Xander decides he's going to date an ex-demon. Remember diary, I wrote about Anyanka? Ex-vengeance demon? Yup, that's write. Xand and Anya are officially dating now. And then there's Buffy and her "woe is me, I have no man" laments. I try to tell her she's not a fifth wheel when we go out to the parties. At least she's not as peeved about the whole Parker episode. But she's got it into her head that all the men in her life will leave, like her dad, like Angel.
I know I shouldn't worry so much about Xander and Buffy and their personal lives, but these are my people. I worry when they are in pain or may be in a sitch that could lead to pain. (Anya? What is Xander thinking!) Sometimes I think the only reason I worry about them, is to keep my mind off other things, things that are closer to home. You know, my personal life. And lately it seems to be getting harder to sort out, harder to deal with.
Halloween Day all together set off this broody mood o' mine. First off, I tell Buffy and Oz I want to step up my magic, you know, get into transmutation and conjuring, and they both turned into naysayers. When I needed support most, they knocked me off my feet. I thought friends were supposed to encourage you no matter what. I know they want to keep me safe, you know, make sure nothing bad happens to me. But I'm a big girl now. I need to take some risks sooner or later, or I won't grow.
Then, when we were trapped in the Halloween party at the Alpha Delta house, Buffy starts ordering everyone around and she wouldn't even listen to my plan to conjure the emissary Iradia to guide us out. And she said disparaging remarks about my magic talent, or in her mind, non-talent. I got angry and stormed out of the room. I'm so tired of being Buffy's shadow.
Then I lost Oz, and this is what bothers me the most. The magic must have tapped into his wolf aspect, and Oz began turning in mid-cycle, and he wanted to be away from me. I understood he didn't want to hurt me, but he did. And not just physically. (The gash on my hand is healing but it itches like crazy!)
You see, I tried to reason with him too, offer him an alternative solution than splitting up, but he wouldn't listen, either. It was like I had no say in the matter--in anything--and he left. I remember yelling after him "Don't leave me!" and it echoed down the hallways. And it was my voice and then it sounded like Buffy's voice. It reminded me of the way she said that all the men she loved left her. For an instant, I felt her pain. For a second, I felt destitute. I can't even say I felt alone, because my very being left with Oz. I felt hollow. He's my life. Oz is, and he left. Oh diary, I've never felt so powerless.
I know Oz would never intentionally hurt me, and up until now, I never considered he might leave me. He has no reason to, but with his preoccupation with the Dingoes, his preoccupation with music. One day, he may go on tour, and I might not be able to go with him. He might meet someone else who could go with him.
All of this makes me feel so powerless, like my feelings, my thoughts, my suggestions don't matter. I don't think I can feel any less powerless...
The postman just came, just a sec...
I am so wrong. There is a feeling of powerlessness lying beneath the one I'm presently experiencing. It comes in the form of a postcard. On its front, a night sky filled with festival lights, and a Masquerade dancer donned in frills of red and white is caught in mid-twirl. A half mask covers her eyes, and she smiles brilliantly, her teeth made whiter either by the flash of a camera or the touch up of an airbrush.
Willow Rosenburg, 1213 Elm Street, Sunnydale CA
postmarked October 21 1999 - Cayenne, BrazilPractice makes perfect, luv. I've done a whimperer, a screamer, a moaner. There was one who giggled nervously, even when the wire round her neck sunk in. But a man can only stay in one place for so long, until all the redheads have gone, even the bottled ones. I wonder, will you laugh? Or will you cry? Will you gasp when you die? Will you whisper even? If you did, what would you say?--S
And I wonder too. Spike, would you encourage me to conjure? Would you heed my advise? Would you listen? Before you killed me, that is.