As I recall, when I pointed this out to you as a Darla song and you suggested I do this with it, I said something along the lines of "Look at it! It doesn't need to be analyzed, it analyzes itself!" But, hey, why not? "Breaking The Habit" by Linkin Park. Memories consume, like opening the wound Four hundred years of memories, and they hurt in all the wrong ways. She's not Angel, that golden standard of A Vampire Who Turned Good. And how much must it fuck with her head that Angel's the first person everyone thinks of when they say "redeemed vampire"? She's not Angel, who remembers all the killing and cries because he's so repulsed. She's Darla, who remembers all the killing and cries because she's so enticed. I'm picking me apart again Going over and over and over everything in her mind, from "how do I keep myself from...?" and "why did he...?" You all assume I'm safe here in my room The sheer fucking arrogance of that. She could be out, right now, taking her fill of blood, feeding and fucking and fighting, and sure her keeper would find out eventually but she could have dozens dead by then. Unless I try to start again She could. Any minute now, she could. I don't want to be the one the battles always choose She didn't choose for a vengeful mage to curse her lover with a soul. She didn't choose to be killed (the first time, at least) and come back to a world where her Order's been beaten down to nothing. She didn't choose for a night of fucking to land her with a pregnancy that should never have been possible. All of those things chose her. And now here she is, in constant agony because of it. 'Cause inside I realize that I'm the one confused How could she not be? I don't know what's worth fighting for, or why I have to scream The moral ones have all these distinctions on what's acceptable and what isn't, and what's acceptable sometimes and what isn't other times, I don't know why I instigate and say what I don't mean I don't know how I got this way, I know it's not alright So I'm breaking the habit, I'm breaking the habit Tonight It's still a habit. Because she feeding and killing were her daily life for four hundred years, and she's been refraining for only a few years. Less than four. Less than one percent of her life. And the thing about habits is, you have to break them all over again every day. Clutching my cure, I tightly lock the door Holding on tight to a potion a were-lioness made in exchange for some strays, locking the door because no one gets to see this. I try to catch my breath again Such a different can of worms for a vampire than for a human. I hurt much more than anytime before I had no options left again I'll paint it on the walls, 'cause I'm the one at fault I'll never fight again, and this is how it ends You know that person who quotes lines from classic works and all at once sounds pretentious for quoting from great works and pathetic because everyone knows that quote? I didn't want to be that person. But every time I listen to this line, the end of "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot pops into my head. So I'm going to be that person. This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper Killing, feeding, all the evil that Darla did, those things were part of her. Down to the bone, part of her. To never fight again is to lose part of herself. And when someone loses part of themselves, it feels like the world's ending. When someone loses part of themselves, the world is ending. Their world. Everything and all they know. Darla fights her own personal apocalypse every day, but it's the people who go out and slay dragons that get the glory. That's when the heroes march with gleaming swords and stirring speeches and brave last stands. While Darla stays safe here in her room and chooses to deny yet again everything her world ever was. Not with a bang, but with a whimper. This is how it ends.