H&AA: Home and Awayaholics Anonymous

[emmasi]

Topic Title: H&AA: Home and Awayaholics Anonymous

Topic Description:Me, Chris H. Rating: G

Type of story: Oneshot

Rating: G

Main Characters: Me, Chris H.

Genre: Non-fiction

Warnings:

Is Story being proof read: Yes

Summary: My descent into madness, via H&A obsession.

H&AA: Home and Awayaholics Anonymous

It’s 1.18AM. I’m at my computer. I need to do an assignment for uni – It’s due tomorrow and I can’t afford to fail again – but I can’t stop thinking about Home and Away. Everyone in Summer Bay is so pretty and perfect. Why can’t I be like that?

I’m on two different forums at once. I’m waiting for any change… a new post to pounce on. What does everyone think of my favourite show, my favourite storyline, my favourite character? What will they think of me if I don’t like the same things as they do?

Maybe if I put on a few episodes and let them run in the background, it will clear my head and relax me. (I have over thirty tapes to choose from.) Argh, how can I relax when the writers keep getting it so wrong?! That character would never say that! She would never listen to him! He’d never go back to her after what she did!

I should be writing this show. I should be writing fan fiction instead. Half an hour of television every weeknight isn’t enough anyway. They never cover all the storylines that I have running through my head. I want this character to go out with that one, but it will never happen. Not in real life, which is to say, not on TV. But it’s stupid. If the writers had any sense, they’d see that that’s the way things are meant to be. I know these characters better than they do – better than anyone! I know these characters better than I know myself. (But then, who would want to know me? I’m nothing special.)

The actors are a different matter. I can only speculate about them. I imagine they have very exciting lives. They must do if I want to know everything about them.

I sometimes wish I were in hospital with some terrible injury or disease so that they’d come and visit me personally. It probably wouldn’t work at my age though. They usually only come to kids – Starlight Foundation and such. Terminally ill children get all the luck.

I pick up a magazine. I don’t care about what’s happening in Hollywood. Those people aren’t real. They’re just media concoctions – tabloid chicanery – whatever will sell the print. Not like my people. My people are real. I’ve seen them up close and everything. If I keep reading about what they like, and what they’ve been doing, I can rearrange my personality to be just like them. That way, I know they won’t reject me if I ever meet them.

I can shop at K-mart and buy the Summer Bay clothing range. Then I’ll be just as gorgeous as Indiana Evans. I’ll have a boyfriend as gorgeous as Rhys Wakefield…I’ll have Rhys Wakefield…it’s only a matter of meeting him. (I read that he likes the same band that I like. We have so much in common. We could spend the rest of our lives together…once he’s over eighteen.)

Okay, let’s not be crazy about this. I should at least go for someone my own age. That would be Isabel Lucas. She’s only a few days older than me. Or Jodi Gordon. Jodi and I have exactly the same birthday. She’s so beautiful and talented. I bet I could have been where she is right now – our stars should be aligned in exactly the same way. I wonder why my life went so wrong…

I don’t want these girls (much). I want to be them. I want to kiss the boys onscreen. Isabel Lucas is so lucky. Imagine getting paid to kiss Jason Smith! (Not like a prostitute though… Acting like you want to be with someone is a totally different thing to…well, acting like you want to be with someone…) That would be beyond a dream. And when she was dating Chris Hemsworth at the same time, her life must have been perfect! I don’t know why she ever cheated on him with that stupid guy from Europe. Luckily some concerned citizen was quick enough to take some photos of her “secret rendezvous” so that Chris would know exactly what she was up to.

I can’t believe she’d do that to him. I’d never do that to him. If Chris was my boyfriend, I’d be so happy – I’d never leave him, not for anyone! (Except Jason Smith, obviously.)

I spent a whole night tracking Chris down at a football game once. I overheard someone say that he was near by, and that was it; I couldn’t rest until I’d found him. I wanted to do more than find him. I wanted to find him, run to him, have him catch me in his broad, muscular arms and kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before. I just knew that he would have done it, too. It didn’t matter that he was still with Isabel at the time; he would have left her for me. You can’t fight fate.

It was supposed to be love at first sight, but he never even saw me. When my opportunity came, I didn’t want him to see me. I hid in the shadows, too ashamed of myself to go near him. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t have to do anything – everything about me was wrong: my hair, my clothes, my shoes, my skin, my teeth, my glasses… I wasn’t worthy of having his stunning sapphire eyes cast upon my shabby, uncouth form. People like him shouldn’t have to look at people like me. Their world should remain just as perfect as they are. Besides, I’m not one of those people who’s into hassling celebrities. As long as I can read about them every week, I’m happy to let them live their lives like normal people.

Once Chris had gone, Isabel wandered by. They weren’t walking together, of course. They never liked to let on that they were an item. It wasn’t that they were trying to hide it exactly, it’s just that they didn’t want the media to make a big deal out of it. They’re very private people, especially Chris. I know that because I’ve read so many articles about him. I practically know everything there is to know by now. I think you should make the effort to get to know the people you love.

When we were leaving the game, I saw Isabel again. A crowd was mobbing her as she was trying to go. She was smiling with all the sincerity of a Barbie doll. She had to keep up the façade that she loved these people as much as they loved her, (the press do not look kindly upon celebrities who snob their fans. Nor do the fans, for that matter), but I could see the fear in her eyes. I have a touch of agoraphobia myself, so I heard her silent prayer for calm and safety as loud as if she had thrown her head back and screamed it.

Where was Chris? What kind of boyfriend would leave such a delicate girl alone and defenseless like that?

I wanted to pick her up and carry her away with me (possibly while singing “I will always love you” by Whitney Huston), but I knew I couldn’t. Chris could have, but he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he deserved to be cheated on, if that was his attitude towards protecting her.

No, I shouldn’t presume about real people and their private relationships. I can’t pretend to know enough about them. Real people are none of my business. My world is fantasy – TV characters and manufactured plots – it’s dangerous to confuse the two.

I later read that Chris was mobbed that night as well. Perhaps he did step in to save Isabel after I left. Perhaps him stepping in only stirred the crowd more.

I still regret not being able to help Isabel, and the fact that for a few moments, I was part of the problem. I won’t forget that look in her eyes. The look that said “I’m just trying to walk here, why aren’t you people moving away from me?” Once I saw that look, I realised that the most helpful thing I could do for her was to leave her in peace.

It’s now 5.40AM. That university assignment still hasn’t written itself. I don’t think the teacher will accept that I was busy discussing Home and Away (or waiting to discuss it) as a good enough excuse for not handing it in on time. Obviously she doesn’t know what it’s like to be a Home and Away addict.

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