My hand is shaking as I write this, making these words unfortunately, though just slightly, illegible. It's acceptable, however, because I never want to relive this moment. I think it's happened. The emotional death of Rachel Barbra Berry. I don't think I've ever felt a pain this truly horrendous and heartbreaking. I can't stop replaying the awful memory in my head. In hindsight, I suppose I can comprehend why he left New Directions, in the first place. The "Run, Joey, Run" debacle had hurt way more feelings than I had originally anticipated. In my defense, how was I supposed to know that triple-casting my current boyfriend with two old flings to play my love interest was going to make Jesse so mad? It wasn't like there had been any kissing scenes….

The fact that he left isn't the reason I'm so broken. What happened after that, why my hands are still shaking, I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even him. Well, maybe him. I'm not sure. I just know I'm way more hurt than angry, which is way harder to deal with. I'm going to try to write about it without smudging the ink on the paper with tears, but I'm not sure how well that will go. I suppose it doesn't matter, anyway.

I was trying to pull myself together for my fellow New Directions members. I knew they needed me at my best to prepare for Regionals, which was drawing nearer every day. I was just about to perform my funk number for Mr. Schuester's assignment, when my phone rang. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have happened. However, everything funky careened out of my mind, which was now devoid of every thought, except one. This was his ringtone. "Hello" by Lionel Richie was the only sound in the choir room, besides my rapidly beating heart that no one besides me could hear.

After the initial shock that he was calling me subsided, I realized that I wanted to pick it up. In doing so, I hoped that we could pick up right where we left off. Two stars burning the smallest, brightest, most perfect constellation ever formed. I answered the phone with the title of our first ever duet, and held my breath as I heard the fateful words, "Meet me in the parking lot."

There really wasn't any question in what my next move would be. I didn't bother making an excuse as to where I was going to my club mates. I was quite sure that they already knew, by my expression. They also knew that there was no stopping me, although now I wish one of them would have. Then I could end this mournful chapter of my life right here, and move on to something brighter.

I don't think I've ever ran faster through the halls of my high school, frantic to have the happy reunion that I thought was coming. As I burst through the doors, it felt like I was running in slow motion. I saw him standing there, and with that, every happy moment we'd ever shared played through my blissfully ignorant mind. When we first met and sang together in the library. When he helped me pick out my 'Hello' song, and we sang it in my room, reinforcing the fact that our voices blended perfectly together. Discovering that we had more chemistry than just the vocal kind. Him assuring me that he would never break my heart and proving it by transferring schools so we would no longer be on opposing show choir teams. Him encouraging me to follow my dream by reuniting with my birth mother, which was actually a bittersweet occasion.

All of these happy memories were completely eradicated from my mind as I felt something round hit the back of my head and, with a crack, open. The next sensation was of some unidentified goo making its way out and sticking in my hair. Several more hit me after the original one. It didn't take me long to realize that the objects were poor, innocent eggs, and the culprits were members of Vocal Adrenaline, reunited with Jesse. This wasn't a happy reunion, at all. This was a reinitiating ritual to welcome him back by humiliating me.

There was a pause in the barrage of poor baby chicks that would never fully form, now. This was just one reason why I was a vegan. I already felt terrible for the innocent babies, and the mothers they'd been stolen away from. Aside from that, I just felt horrified, and hurt. I couldn't believe Jesse would do this to me. I thought he loved me. Or at least didn't hate me enough to do this to me. As I heard one of his snarky club mates speak up, I realized that this may not have been his idea. That he maybe wouldn't go through with it. He maybe still loved me, and we could go back to the way things were. I saw him raise the egg in his hand, looking conflicted as the same girl egged him on. "Are you with us or not?"

I waited to hear the answer, myself. Surely he wouldn't go through with this. Some foolish part of my heart screamed that he still loved me. He had to. At least enough to just walk away. He took several steps toward me until we were only a step apart. His expression radiated anything but love. That was the moment I knew. I had lost him. I tried to put on a brave face, and my voice was surprisingly strong as I heard myself say, "Do it. Break it like you broke my heart."

I refused to cry. To show weakness to the person I loved who had turned and betrayed me. I felt a dull sort of ache, like what was happening hadn't fully processed yet. The three words he said next were the ones that made the pain I'm feeling right now fully ignite. "I loved you." he said. A pause, and then he broke the egg on my forehead. The inside began sliding down my face. We looked at each other for a split second, before him and the rest of his snickering cronies walked away.

I held in the gut-wrenching sobs until I heard the last of the ridiculously expensive cars drive away. When I was sure I was alone, the last of my strong front broke away. I stood there, all alone and shattered like the destroyed shells I was surrounded by.