Well, I'm trying to write more and after watching Season 6 of Glee… I'm just about done with this damn show. Samchel? Like forreal? Seriously? No, seriously? I'm absolutely disgusted. And all I wanna know is what the hell are THEY thinking? So… here's my answer to that LOL

Let me know what ya'll think! I hope ya like it!

We've been here before.

Even smoothing the already meticulously ironed and creased chartreuse colored pencil skirt I was wearing didn't cease my hands from shaking. No amount of fidgeting was helping. All I could think of was Rachel's gnarly man-hands engulfed in Sams, sitting beside the fireplace at Mr. Shue's apartment.

Even the smile I plastered on my face that night was all too familiar.

A smile I'd practiced for Quinn and Santana, when my unrequited attraction for the country, fair head goofball began. A forged grin when a mere few weeks post graduation led said blond nerd into the arms of another faux daft blond (turned genius). A covered wince at the mention of a hook up with Tina and a watery lip curve at the Demi Moore nurse chick.

And now this.

I pride myself on being a woman of integrity. After years of nobody-ness at McKinley yet involvement in the often scandal filled Glee club, I've come out of it all fairly unscathed and with my morals in tact. Not just in my choice of abstaining but in how I treat others. Even though Santana had tormented me throughout the entirety of high school and even tried to fight me over the then de-mohawked Puck, I still demanded that she be featured on my record in hopes of getting her recognition in the music industry. No matter how many times Kurt casted me aside for his newfound Bestie in Rachel, I always made myself available to be the shoulder he could cry on through relationship, scholastic, and career woes.

And dear old Rachel.

Even with the makeshift concern over my feelings about her and Sam's budding relationship (because if that were truly the case, I would've gotten a phone call when said 'attraction' began to materialize or after the Vanessa Carlton inspired kiss but I digress), I still compartmentalized the betrayal and encouraged her to stop wallowing in the depths of her epic fail of a Hollywood career, and head back to Broadway.

I can't help it. I really try to be a decent person.

But seriously, this is all so very sickeningly common by now

The blush being added to my cheekbones aided in the mask I've been building since Freshman year. Mac Ruby Woo Lipstick, years of Backup to the Berry Show. Anastacia 10k Highlighting Powder, and a highlight reel of my powerhouse wails, always preserved for the last 10 seconds of the performance.

I'm used to being overlooked. I'm used to being ignored.

And when it comes to love, Lord knows, I'm used to not getting the guy.

Especially one Sam Evans.

The one guy I let all the lipsticks and fears and facades down for. The one I'd shared everything with. The one I've wanted and loved and craved and desired and cried over.

Just plain and simply, the One.

Currently, the one tapping piano keys into Rachel Berry's palms without a care in the word.

He looks happy.

She looks happy.

I suppose I can be happy for them.

Grin really wide for them. Wink and nudge Rachel on as if she ever needed my permission to pursue my Soulmate (her words AND mine). Cautiously rub Sam's shoulder and relay to him that we'll always be friends and create a fable of the plethora of invisible men I've been dating since we parted back in New York to ease his guilty conscious. I can sit back and watch in the sidelines as the love of my life becomes the love of someone else's life.

Yea, I can do that.

I've done this very thing before.

Because we've definitely been here before.

We've been here before.

Even staring at these old Red Converses are reminiscent of the road constantly traveled. Watching my boys on the football field, remembering my own glory days only leads me back to her.

That damn Mercedes sure knows how to clench those multicolored nails into the heart of a fool.

And I have been that fool, willingly, for more years than I can count.

Now, I know I've been a bit…friendly during my time at McKinley and beyond. What can I say? LLCoolSam. Ladies Love. Boyaw!

But all that stops and dies a gazillion deaths when it comes to Ms. Jones.

Quinn's hazel eyes were hypnotizing yet Mercedes deep brown one's were always warm and welcoming. Santana…well, she was sexy and absolutely evil but Ms. Jones. Lord, those hips. And that smile. The one that crinkles at the top of her nose and causes a small dent on her forehead. No comparison. We can go down the list. The Brittney's. The Penny's. Do I have to say Tina? I think I deserve a do-over on that. Like seriously.

And then there's Rachel.

And to be completely honest, I can't explain how the hell any of this happened. One minute, Sue's showing me her new shiny gold grandfather watch and the next, I'm lip locking with Berry, a chick who has NEVER shown any interest in me, in vice versa.

But there's one common denominator with ALL of this: Mercedes insistent denial of US as well as her ridiculously irritating encouragement.

Oh Saaam, did anyone see us? We gotta stay a secret. **flutters thick seductive eyelashes**

What we had was a summer fling. I'm with Shane now. **purses plump lips between teeth**

Sam, I need time. I don't know who I am when I'm in love. **Wipes single tear off chubby cheek**

We have to break up. We've been holding onto our love so tigh…blaaah blaaah blaaaaah!

COME ON, WOMAN?!

Why won't you be with me?! Why can't you just accept that we're meant! Endgame. Whatever the hell that means.

Instead, she just sits there. Quietly. Beaming brightly and grinning that beautiful smile. Never jealous, always encouraging.

I mean, just last week, I told this stubborn grace of a woman that I loved her and that I wanted to be with her! I broke out the guitar and everything! And what does she do? Tell me she wants me to help heal Rachel Friggin Berry's heart!

Waaait what?!

Cedes, are you kidding me?! How can you be this smart yet this…this…sickening?

But like I said, this aint nothing new.

She hugged me and Quinn, laughed with Santana and I, applauded me with Brittney, and is now damn near assembling Rachel and I.

It's almost like she doesn't even care. And with all that we were. All that we've meant to each other. Hell, all that I've always been willing to give up (including a nice angsty young male libido). How in the blue hell could she not care?

I wish I could say that I'm shocked about all of this.

But I'm not. Sadly, I'm not.

Because we've been here before.

Everybody with eyes knows Mercedes Jones and Sam Evans have been HERE too many damn times before.

Ugh.