(Puck's point of view)
Dear Journal,
2 years have passed since I started writing down my feelings, and I can honestly say that it helped. I started reaching out to my friends, going places, volunteering in the community and all. It's funny, because one of the programs I supported was called 'Hands off' and it went against fighting and violence. I got to sit down and mentor young girls and boys who were victims of these scenarios. Sometimes I cried after their stories, and held them in my arms. Other times, I would show them my scars and relate with my own demons. I smiled at nights though, because I was proud of the man I was becoming. I was thankful that I got another shot at life and that I could help someone else who struggled like I did. I met this one kid named Isaiah who has suffered some serious stuff. He was found in a trash can in Jamaica and his foster parents found him and raised him. When he was 11, his family moved to Ohio and now 4 years later, he still struggles mentally. He can't shake the insecurities away because the pain is so strong. He used to rely on drugs to numb his pain, but he quit it. He said it only made him feel worse. Then he moved on to smoking pot and weed, but he felt defeated with that stuff so he quit. He realized he wasted his time and he didn't see a reason to live, so he ran. Away from everything, and he found a common bridge, about to jump until I grabbed him. It's difficult to write such personal things, but I need this to free myself. I cried as he kicked and screamed. He quickly ran out of energy, and so I stuffed him in my car, with child safety lock, and I drove to Nana's house. He fell asleep, so I shuffled him to my visiting room to lie down. I cried as I looked at his hurt features. He seemed so lost. Anyway, that was just day one. Over time, he would grow to open up to me only, and so we stuck by close. He went from the hospital to therapy to home where he belongs. I convinced him to come to the sessions even though it was for violence, and he made friends with the same fears and insecurities as him. I'm proud of him. I even drag the guys with me. I'm sad because Blaine is leaving to go to Lima so him and Kurt could be together. I'm happy for him, but I will truly miss him. I mean, my parents offered to let me go with him, seeing as I improved, but I don't think I have the heart to. I'm not ready yet.
"What are you writing?" Quinn asks. She comes up behind me and kisses my neck.
"It's sort of like a journal for therapy." I answer lamely. She jumps on my guest bed as I turn from my desk.
"Your Nana's house is big. I like her taste." I smirk at her, getting up to join her. She smiles and kisses me sweetly.
Ever since that party two years ago, Quinn and I have been hanging out. It's like we're attached at the hip. I really like her, so I made the first move, luckily, she felt the same. It's nice though, that we've been going out for a year and I feel like I've known her my whole life. I think she's my best friend, well besides the guys. I understand her, and she listens to me. We complement each other.
"You want to stay for dinner? Nana's cooking her famous chili tonight. My family is visiting and their flight gets in at 6pm our time." She hesitates.
"Ok. Sure. Let me just call my mom and tell her." She doesn't meet my eyes as she leaves to make her call. Something is up, and I can't pinpoint exactly what it is. Every time I bring up her parents, or school, she shifts uncomfortably and changes the subject. I want to confront her, but I don't think she's ready to talk about it.
"Puck, its fine with her." She strolls in and sits at my desk. I get up quickly, closing my journal.
"I'm sorry. It's just its really personal." I turn my back sitting on the bed.
"Yea. I get it." She gets up ready to leave.
"Quinn!" I follow her to her car. I grab her arm gently.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I.." She turns around.
"What is it Puck? Huh, because I'm so sick of you hiding things from me! I'm tired of it!" She screamed. I looked at my feet. I could've sworn she had tears in her eyes.
"I can't stand that you and Blaine are closer than you and I are. I just…and then even Isaiah knows you. ISAIAH, WHO"S FREAKING TWO YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU! I KNEW YOU LONGER. I WENT OUT WITH YOU FOR A YEAR, AND I STILL GET LITTLE HINTS!" My blood boiled.
"Hold up! Isaiah needs my help! How dare you compare that relationship to ours! It's completely different! I suffered the same things as a kid and he needs some love and support!" She smiled a hurtful smile.
"But the point is, I don't know who my boyfriend is." She met my angry gaze.
"I don't even know your middle name Puck." She whispered. I opened my mouth to say something when a car pulled up. I could see Isaiah's head in the passenger's seat.
"I can't do this anymore Puck. I need to break it off with you. I'm sorry." I cringed.
"Quinn!" She ignored me as she reversed out the drive way and out of my life.
(6 months later)
Its spring vacation and it sucks. Everyone I know is going out to the movies, hanging out, you name it, and I'm taking a boxing class. I'm the best one in my category, but that's how I channel my anger. I cried every night since our argument, and the pain floods my memory every time I see blond hair. She must've been hurt when I screamed at her, and I admit, I was a total douche, but I still care about her. I called her 6 times a day, but I guess she switched her number too. I can't stand thinking about her because it hurts too much. I finally was fed up, that I joined a Calculus course and a College level Expository. In my spare time, I manage to meet with Isaiah and work my fair shift at a gun shop out of town, and sing for a bar two towns over. I make pretty good cash, but I mostly give it towards charity and Isaiah. It seems like a busy schedule, but really, I depend on it. I need it to at least take my mind off of her. My phone rings and I send it to voicemail. I sit there, on Nana's couch, because my room has too many memories, and I think. I have off from both jobs, and class ended early. I pick up my guitar, headed straight towards my room, suddenly inspired. This better work.
