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Tara's Monologue
by Soul Spinner
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Student.

Witch.

Lesbian.

Look, I don't like labels.  Sure, sure --- I know what you're thinking: you 
can't avoid being labeled.  We were born female so we're automatically 
labeled girl, babe, chick, dame, broad, and a whole lot of other adjectives, 
most of which aren't very nice.  I was also born a witch, and believe you 
me, that opens up a *whole* other barrel of labels.  The Wiccan thing came 
with that, but even that can be further broken down.  Being into other 
girls?  That was always there, too.  Guys are nice, but it has always been 
other women who I've been attracted to, so I'm labeled a dyke.  I'm also 
shy, so I've been identified as timid and colorless.

I've never been a real social person.  Shyness is like a cloak I've worn so 
long that it's shrunk to become a second skin that I can't take off.  There 
were a few friends in high school, but we all went to different collages and 
drifted apart.  And there was another girl once, someone I thought I could 
fall in love with but . . . it didn't work out.  Let's just leave it at 
that.

Now there's Willow.  Sweet, wonderful, beautiful, amazing Willow Rosenburg.  
I know you ran with different crowds in high school and don't think much of 
her, but I'm totally gone on Willow.  She makes my heart flutter like a bird 
caught in a cage too small to hold it.  She's my first friend at Sunnydale 
University, the fist person to notice my existence.  Sometimes I'm sure, 
absolutely *positive*, that she knows I love her, and even returns the 
attention.  I swear, sometimes it seems as if she's hinting that she would 
like it if we were really together.  And then sometimes she gives me the 
cold shoulder and I'm not sure of anything anymore.  It's hard living on 
this razor-fine edge between friend and more-than-friend.  I want to touch 
her, kiss her, love her --- if only she would let me.  I crave the intimacy 
and love I know we could share.

You know about that, right?  Sure, everybody does.  We all want to find that 
special someone.  That one person in the entire world who will understand 
you and love you for who you are, accepting all your faults.  Someone you 
can cuddle with and talk to, who shares some interests and gives you space 
when you need it.  Someone you can cry in front of and argue with and make 
mind-blowing love to.

Willow once found that someone.  His name was Oz and I think Willow is still 
in love with him.  Oz was a musician, a computer guy, and a werewolf.  He 
left Willow; hurt her.  I hate him, even though I've never met him.  They 
shared so much: demon-slaying and world-saving and the like.  Stuff I've 
never had with her.  Stuff she does with her other friends.

She calls them the Scooby Gang.  Talks about them constantly.  I often think 
I know Buffy and Xander and Giles and Cordelia and even Angel and Spike and 
Anya.  You've met most of them, right?  No, don't tell me.  I don't think I 
can stand hearing more about them.  I know she doesn't tell them about me.  
That hurts a bit.  But when she told me she wanted me all to herself . . . 
well, I almost kissed her right then and there.  But still, I don't like 
being her dirty little secret, you know what I mean?  I want to be a real 
part of her life, not just relegated to the periphery.  Occasionally, it 
feels like . . . like she's not putting enough into our friendship, like I'm 
doing all the work and she's just using me.  I still love her though.  
Someday, I'll have her, too.  I just wish she'd share more of herself with 
me.

Sorry.  You must be bored with all my bitching.  Nothing's perfect, right?  
And it's not like I'm not holding back stuff, too.  I've got secrets.  I've 
got problems.  Such is life.

Thank you.  Thanks for listening and understanding.  What a pair we make 
Harmony!  You want Spike, I want Willow, yet here we are together.  Life is 
just weird like that sometimes, eh?

Mmm, would you mind--?  Ahh, yes.  Just, um . . . just don't take so much 
blood this time, please?

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The End
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