Whouffaldi OneShots

The Weight Of Living

It's been years. Years since his gentle smile. Years since his terrifying sense of revenge. Years since that big blue box.

Years since my Doctor.

I lied about everything. I lied about Danny. I lied about being happy, just to make him happy.

He's found Gallifrey and he's probably found his children. The Doctor has a life now. A real one. The Doctor has the life he deserves. The one hes always deserved.

The weight of living without my support system gets to be way too much sometimes. Sometimes I think of ending it all. Giving up.

But that little sliver of hope. Its all I need to keep going. Living with the Doctor seemed like a dream, until it ended. It became all too real that I had just lost my best friend. I miss him a little more everyday and it's ruining me. Sometimes I'll find a dress I wore to a certain world and stare at the wall for hours, reliving the whole day in my head. It kills me but it keeps me grounded.

I'm not Clara Oswald without the Doctor.

I have no purpose. My memories can get a bit sketchy at times, but I know I was born to save the Doctor, whether that be from himself or a being from another world.

Going home was the hardest for me. Getting a job. Living a normal life. Before, the Doctor was my life and now, he has no part in it. Working the cafe isn't too bad, but it's nothing close to having the Doctor by my side. Forcing hugs on him. Clutching his hand as we ran with our lives. Looking into his eyes every morning and noticing every little thing about them.

Those gorgeous blue eyes. They told his story. They'd seen war. They'd been in love. They'd saved worlds. Those eyes made me melt every time mine had met with them.

The worlds we had seen. The worlds we had saved. They were noisy, bustling with life. I guess that's why I chose the cafe. I couldn't take the silence. I could feel the silence seeping into my skin when I was at home or at the school. The children had such a rambunctious energy that I couldn't even register. Always so excited. They talked about things that could never matter in the long run. Boys in magazines. Cell phone ringtones. None of it mattered.

I guess the Doctor taught me that. Small things never matter in another world, or in another universe. God knows, mankind wants to move to Mars but they can't even go a day without chattering about how they're going to marry someone thats fifteen years older than them.

Children and adults alike can't even see whats important. No, its not cell phones or how hot that one girl is. People must learn that their voice is a weapon and you must do with it what you can, before it's too late. The Doctor was never cruel or cowardly. He spoke from his brain and sometimes, if needed, his hearts.  He saved universes with just his words.

I dream of him, most nights. I dream of how gentle his heart was when it came to the people he loved and how aggressive it became around beings who threatened them.

Last night I dreamed that I was back in the TARDIS, laying on the couch in the library with a book clutched in my hands. The Doctor was laying across from me, our legs tangled between us. It used to get a bit cold in the library sometimes and I had never known why. Maybe it was the high ceilings or maybe it was just the calm energy of the room. So in my dream, I had asked. All the Doctor said was, "Well, my dear Clara, I dont know the reason, so why dont you tell me?"

And I did just that. I told the Doctor it was because of how calm the books were. I told him that they did not want anyone to be uncomfortable in that sacred room, so they chose the cold. You could bundle and unbundle yourself as you pleased and thats exactly what they wanted. They wanted you to be in control. Usually the Doctor wouldve scoffed and gone on with his reading, but he seemed sincerely intrigued by what I had said.

That isn't what I want from him though, I want him to come back. All of him. The sass. The comfortable passive attitude. Everything good and everything horrible. I could only be myself with him around, and he could do the same. I respected him and he respected me, no matter what I said. He let me be Clara.

It hurts like hell, being torn apart piece by piece. It hurts not being able to be my true self. It hurts not having my partner in crime by my side whenever I needed him. I am not the girl I was with the Doctor. I can't tell you who I am, but I am definitely not Clara Oswald anymore.

Clara Oswald is long gone.