I do not own Glee.
People say that remembering is the hard part, and that forgetting is the easy. I disagree. Remembering is easy. Forgetting is harder. When you truly care about someone, remembering is the simpler part. It will always, always be bittersweet to remember when you were happy with a loved one. Forgetting them is painful – because when you love someone, you love every part of them. And to forget them is to forget every part you have already discovered and loved, and every new sparkle in them you had yet to find, but you loved anyway. Everyone has someone they wish they could forget – it's common knowledge. What isn't common knowledge is the story behind every forgotten memory. And maybe it's better that way, maybe not. But I think that words need to be said before they are lost forever, forgotten in a tangle of pain.
Which is why I'm saying these words now. You'll never read this. I don't know if I want you to, or not. Only time will heal these scars you've left me with. There isn't anything you can tell me that will help. In your eyes, I abandoned you. In my eyes, you were the one who did the abandoning. I emailed you every day. I sent you a birthday present. I sent your parents a present. I sent your brother a present. You never gave me the satisfaction, the relief of finding a response from you in my inbox. Do you know how many times I cried because of that, because of you? I cried, and cried, and I still have too many tears left inside me.
Just tell me one thing. Was I a joke to you, a plaything? If I wasn't, thanks for making me feel like one. You were supposed to be my rock. I was closer to you than anyone. I loved you more than anyone else who'd ever gotten close to my heart. You got through the garden of thorns and over the wall. You accepted me when I was moody, told me when I was being awful, and loved me unconditionally. What happened? When did I suddenly stop being enough? Why did I cease to be enough for you?
Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, what I know I want to hear. You can't do that anymore. Tell me the truth. You can do that, right? It involves being honest. And sometimes, it involves courage. Do you even have any? If you were still here with me, you would say I'm being hateful. I don't care. You deserve this. You deserve my anger, and my hate. And after, you deserve my silence. We've ended. You saw to that. All I ask for is one thing. Don't come back around here trying to fix this, trying to fix us. We're broken, shattered. And I'm too hurt.
You never even said thank you.
He closed his eyes against the pain that washed through him as he read the words over and over again, the shape of each letter familiar to his eyes, the crinkle and crunch of the worn out paper thin and reedy. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost her. He'd given up. He'd been so angry when he'd gotten that call. He'd been angry with her, at her. She hadn't once thought of him when she'd done what she had.
But then, he'd stopped thinking about her a while ago.
Yeah… I was depressed when I wrote this. I think it shows, huh? Reviews?
Love!