A small piece that took about twenty or so minutes to write. This story has a slight psychological element to it, told by Jesse and the struggles between the two people he has become. I'm not used to writing angst on in this style, so really is just a test to see how it works and what people think. So, let me know what you thought!
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Whenever I meet someone new, I always introduce myself with my full name; Jesse St. James. Most people assume it's simply to stroke my own ego or to act as if I am deluded enough to believe every single person knows of my existence and shouldrecognize my name within an instance. Most people would be wrong. I never call myself simply Jesse when you first meet me becauseI'm not Jesse. Not to you. Jesse and Jesse St. James are so very different; they might as well be two different people. Jesse, with his ambition, passion and a soft spot for old record players and the smell of cut grass. Then there's Jesse St. James; manipulative, distant, cold and heartless. That's who everyone knows me as, that's who everyone will always see, because that's who I've had to become, to get to where I am now.
Before Vocal Adrenaline, I'd always just been Jesse. My friends knew me by that name and while I had my drive, attitude and cocky smirk, I was still just Jesse. I laughed with friends, I was gentle when need be and I was strong when I had to be. I cried when my dog died, I smiled when the school bell rang. I was simple and I was normal and I was just Jesse.
Jesse is dying. I know that much. Every day, he seems to fade just a little bit more within me; with every performance, with every moment in the spotlight, with every note that escapes my throat, I know he is dying. Because that is the price I pay to become the star everyone promises I can be. For fame and fortune and everything else in between, I have to kill Jesse and let Jesse St. James be all that remains. I had understood all this; I'd accepted it and was sure I could go through with it.
Then you came along, Rachel.
With your knee high socks and talent and ambition that matched my own, your passion scorching me and left me feeling a warmth in my blood that I could have sworn I had lost years ago. I couldn't understand you; you were so talented, you were just a big a star as me and yet, you were so real. You were imperfect, you were loud, you were angry, you cried, you broke down, you were weak and that made you all the more stronger than me. You were so alive and everything I couldn't be.
You were the first person I introduced myself to as Jesse, the first and the last person to know me as that dying, forgotten boy. Every kiss, every taste and every touch reminded me of what it felt like to be so human, so simple and so perfect. You made me laugh, you made me smile, you made me scream and you made me cry and I thank you every day for all of those things. But I was selfish; I knew that, because for every ounce of pain you gave me, you came back with enough love to mend every wound you had inflicted.
I couldn't do the same.
Our fairy tale was cut short and while I remain unfazed to all who ask me about it. I scream into my pillow every night when I'm alone, just thinking about it. The quiver of your voice, as you try and stay strong, while I break you slowly. As I kill Jesse right before your eyes with nothing but a weak, pathetic farewell in the words of "I loved you" and the crack of the egg shell above your forehead. Jesse St. James watches with a cold satisfaction as you crumble to the floor and all I can do is wish that I had never found you, because you deserved so much more than this. You probably think it was lie, just a game for me and nothing more. But every kiss, every moment, every promise was real, between you and the boy I was and can never be again.
I promised you that the guy you knew as Jesse would never hurt you.
I never broke that promise.
Jesse St. James however, was someone who I could never save you from.
Goodbye Rachel Berry.
For you, I will always be...
Just Jesse.