Chapter 1
It was the Andie's idea to start the journal, not mine.
Let's just begin with that.
It just happened that the journal would be my sort of savior in the end. See, I thought I'd write just to make my therapist happy. I thought that there'd never be a time when Quinn Fabray (that's me) would be okay. I'd see glimpses of hope here and there. It was those times where I found myself being happy.
Those moments of happiness, however, didn't prepare me for the pain that was bound to come my way.
Truthfully, happiness wasn't something that came easy for me. It had to be fought. I had to fight for moments of pure bliss. I struggled for moments of alrightness.
But it happened. It just wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want happiness to come from someone else. Still, every time she touched me I felt myself unravel. My walls would crumble and I felt naked. She looked at me like I wasn't cruel or broken. She put me on this pedestal and I couldn't help but be fearful for the moment I fell off. I grew scared of the cracks in my pretense because I knew she'd find them.
Her fingers.
I found myself shivering as her fingers trailed lightly down my arm. Her nails would draw patterns on my skin, across my stomach. I imagined it all to be simple; I refused to believe it was purely a matter of the heart. I refused to believe it was love.
Of course it was.
But I won't admit that until it's over. Until I'm wallowing in self pity and I'm drowning in my sorrows.
All I wanted was to be happy. I wanted to be by myself.
Yet.
I'm here. Craving her touch. Feeling the absence of her in my heart.