Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the Charmed characters, quotes, or overt references that may appear in my stories. They are the sole property of Spelling Television. I write for my own satisfaction and for the enjoyment of those who choose to read them.

A/N: This not a Charmed story per say, but rather a perception I wish to share. I appologize in advance if there is any erroneous information contained within.

Thanks to your loyal readership, it means so very much.

My best,
Dream

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Powerless

Complete

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
I have absolutely no interest in changing myself in order for people to like me more.
... I am in a very healthy place. I’ve got an amazing family. I have a wonderful job, and people aren’t sick of me yet. ~ Shannen Dorherty.
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

She sat in her Camarillo penthouse. The California sun setting over the end of a long and arduous day. Tucking her bare feet under her weathered jeans, she leaned into the Italian brown sofa. The glass of Chardonnay casting an amber glow around her lips. She took in yet another cleansing breath, in what must have been well over... well to many to count. Her agent, recommending she procure an image consultant after the rash of stories surrounding her overblown clashes on the Charmed set. In truth the sorties were always brief and never resulted in the schoolyard antics that the tabloids took great pleasure in trumping just to increase distribution and meet sales goals. She’s a perfectionist, but then so are Holly and Alyssa, at one point or another all have expressed creative differences, that didn’t mean she body slammed Lyssie to the ground, calling her and her mother everything under the sun.

She ran her hands through her long tresses and swirled the fruity fermentation so that the bouquet seized the gentle breeze flowing from the opened French doors. Pulling the tawny liquid vine to her lips she drew in its wonderful palate.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
Paint my face in your magazines
Make it look meaner than it seems
Paint me over with your dreams
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Shannen grazed her vision to the big, bold newsprint, its audacious colours and boxy close-ups made her cringe and laugh all at once. The only thing truthful in the ink was the bulky price in the lower corner. To call it tabloid journalism, was a perfect example of an oxymoron. True reporting was to always consist of a direct presentation of facts or fair and balanced descriptions of events. Where did it all go wrong? Where are the Eric Sevareids and Edward R. Murrows? The Harriet Van Hornes and Red Smiths? Rare is the principled word put to print; ethical journalism is a thing of the past. A fabricated story with just an iota of truth sells. And sadly the populace is buying into this new trend of hip reality with a script reporting. Reports of her behavior have been grossly exaggerated. The alcohol consumption was true, she never denied it, but then so was the shutterbug with Scotch on his breath, but nobody seemed to care that his license had been revoked for too many DUI’s.

“Well say what you want, cause I know the truth!” But the words held little comfort for the pain she felt in being so misunderstood. “I am no saint; I have made my mistakes and have grown from them. Money and youth is a bad combination, but I learned to appreciate my position, emotional scrapes and all. Why can’t they see passed my past mistakes and see I am human just like everybody else. Vocal maybe, but never without a reason... Well say what you want, because I know the truth.”

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
Burn every notion that I may have a flame inside to fight
And say just what is on my mind
Without offending your might
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Shannen, slipped over to the terrace, and let the evening air, rolling off the Pacific, soothing her trouble mind. Life is too short to worry about what you can’t stop. She knew her career had been and still was good, her family and friends knew who she really was... That’s all that mattered. Let them feed their families on the suffering of others. Let the corporate world of misrepresentation fuel the economy at her expense. It’s useless to fight what the public wants... supply and demand rules our culture in far too many ways. I am just one person, powerless to end a plague that began spreading across the North Continent with the likes of Walter Winchell and Hedda Hopper. Powerless...

“Say what you want, because I know the truth. Life is just too damn short.”

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
Cuz this life is too short to live it just for you
But when you feel so powerless what are you gonna do
So say what you want
Say what you want
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Outside the tinted glass of her Escalade stood countless billboards, one had the paper peeling back, curling around the oldest Halliwell’s face. Season three and the show is all the rage. Shannen’s brows furrowed as she thought, ‘I am more that just a face on a poster, I have passion and feelings and yes... yes even grace. A grace I would be happy to extend if just once I could have it given to me first. But no you rather have me wear a look and attitude of anger and temper, instead of the whole package that makes up ME. Contort and twist the independence and label me a bitch. Easier than facing the truth. Hide behind your record sales and hollow virtues, and...’

“Well see what you want, because I know the truth.”

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
I saw my face outside today
Weatherworn, looking all the rage
They took my passion and my gaze and made a poster
Now it’s anger you have me sport
You take my independence and contort
Perhaps only to distort what you are hiding
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

The studio security guard tipped his cap and smiled insincerely, letting the black SUV onto the WB lot. The Kraft service employee nearly drooling onto the stack of sandwiches that he was in charge of. A look of sadness came over her face as she passed Brad Kern and his faithful cronies. An arm linked into each of hers and Holly and Alyssa led her to the living room. A sound check was needed before they shot the emotional knife scene in Coyote Piper. All three snuggled on the sofa waiting for
Chris Long to yell ‘action’. Yes life was too short...

“Say what you want!”

Both her stage sisters's looked at her and said in unison. “Huh?” A puzzled look on each of their faces. Shannen placed a tender kiss on their foreheads and said nothing.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
Cuz this life is too short to live it just for you
But when you feel so powerless, what are you gonna do
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Taking back the power...

Finis

Disclaimer: The words to Nelly Furtado’s Powerless, have been slightly retooled to work into this story. My intent was not, in any way, to take away from her wonderful talent, but only you use the touching and poignant words to express my simple thoughts. Her works are far too superior for me to dare claim, so therefore I don’t.