Author's Note – This is an AU story set in Season 3 around the time Chandler split up with Janice. It's an angsty Chandler story – the poor guy, he gets tortured so much but he fits the part so well.
Anyway please read and review with any comments or suggestions you have; put whatever you want really lol :)
Feedback is always appreciated.
Thanks
My purpose was always to be the one with the jokes. The one with a smart remark, a witty comment or a one liner. I was always the one to make everyone laugh and smile. That was me.
My purpose.
Chandler Bing – the joker, the prankster, the mocker. I always believed I was happy and content with my role in the group and I truly was until it happened.
The moment that changed my life.
The moment that made me re-evaluate and question everything.
The moment that screwed everything up.
When I looked back at my life the truth was distorted. I didn't see what I used to see. All I could see was me being the butt of everyone's jokes. I'd only ever chosen to believe that it was funny, that they didn't mean it and it was all just a bit of harmless fun.
I knew I'd made jokes about people but I never meant it and everybody knew that. I was never serious; I would never intentionally make anyone feel bad. For me it always was just fun; but when it came to me it was no joke – I was weak and pathetic, a loser, a doormat, the consolation prize, the one that nobody really wanted… didn't really need. That's how I felt and that's why I did it.
Maybe I took things to heart, no I know I took things to heart, but I'd changed. What happened killed the real me and feelings of paranoia and insecurity ate away at me. I couldn't face another day living that existence. I couldn't make any sense of anything anymore and I didn't see the point in trying to. Just being there to provide the entertainment was not something I needed. Not when I thought I'd never be able tolaugh or smileagain. I didn't want that to be all there was to life. I know I was loved, but I was so far gone at the time, that it didn't matter. They didn't know how I felt, it wasn't their fault. I was stupid I had problems that were bigger than me but I bottled them all up, never talking about them – not being able to – it hurt to much and if I didn't talk about it then I could almost deny it, pretend it wasn't true, that it hadn't happened. But it had and eventually I couldn't take it anymore, I couldn't keep going when I couldn't see any light at the end of the tunnel and so that's why I did it…
