Life Just Is...

This is my first fic (kind of) I was hit my a DUI muse and both my first fic were on the same day... Fraternal twins perhaps.

As I lay awake, I wondered what time it was. I decided I didn’t care enough to get up and look for a watch that was still working. Again, I regretted the fact that I’d thrown my alarm against the wall last night. I rolled off the bed and cursed myself for letting all my other watches run down. The cat had been asleep on my stomach meowed at me reproachfully, annoyed that I’d presumed to disturb him. Wait a second, hadn’t I just decided not to get up? It was too late to go back now since I’d broken my momentum, so I set out to find the time. I stumbled across my room, turned on the lights, and looked around for my clothes. I was disoriented for a second when I realized that my surroundings weren’t dank and dreary. Then a remembered that I was no longer living in my parent’s basement. My mood brightened momentarily until my life beat it down to my accustomed melancholy. Any residual brightness soon fled in the face of my body’s vehement protests to my scoobiness. You’d think that after four years of being Buffy’s faithful if useless sidekick my body would be used to being sore and covered in various cuts and bruises but you’d be wrong.
Looking around I wondered who had come into my room and cleared away the clothes covering the floor, and then I remembered that I had. I felt a sense of foreboding settle over me as I looked over my room. Perhaps it was an early warning system for those who fought evil and lived to speak of it, more probably, it was the fact that no respectable single male nineteen-year-old’s room had a right to look so clean. Surely this wasn’t healthy. Hurriedly, I warded off evil by scattering some papers and used socks over the floor. Then I hurriedly picked up the papers and shoved them under my bed with my books before remembering that my ‘friends’ had no idea about my current change in address. I had recently decided that there was no need for them to find out I was taking any action to further my education or my living conditions. I was in no mood to be patronized and patted over the head like some mutt. To their knowledge I was still living in my parents’ basement and working at shit job number 836. If they needed my being a failure to feel content about their lives I had no qualms about letting go on thinking that I was one. I shook my head to try and dispel my rising frustration like a dog would shake himself to dispel moisture but I still felt damp. I decided by chasing my thoughts away by getting back to the matter at hand. After throwing a shirt over my armchair and throwing a pillow on the floor, I heaved a sigh of relief. Thers sts still something missing though. With some dismay I realized that I could hear myself think. This won’t lead to any good I thought to myself, as I headed towards the living room and the salvation of my stereo.
I selected a Deftones album and silently wished that my thoughts would just ‘Be Quiet and Drive’ for a while. Surprisingly, they took the hint and left me to myself. I lit up a cancerstick and sank down onto the couch my only lighting the dull ember of my cigarette and the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. I took a drag and let it out slowly enjoying the novelty of having a calm mind for once as well as that of having time to myself. With a sardonic smile, I wondered what the girls would make of me sprawled on a couch in a not too shabby not too small apartment wearing a pair of silk pajama bottoms. Where would that fit in with their picture goofy good for nothing but still annoyingly lovable Xander.
Actually I don’t think their view of me has changed since our highschool sophomore year. To them I’m still that clumsy, awkward, not too bright kid with a strange sense of humor I was the day Buffy came to our school. If they’d paid even a little attention they would have realized I’d grown out of that persona a long time ago. Because of their lack of attention however, I’m norcedrced to play a role I’m no longer comfortable playing. If I ever (heaven forbid) sound like an adult in their presence I’m subject to strange looks and I’m asked if I’m possessed again. It’s not like I haven’t tried to change their view of me, but I gave up after I realized that to try was to fight a losing battle. What set that realization in stone for me was what happened after I came back from my road trip.