A/N: I don't take credit for the poem written for Quinn at the end. All credits go to Kari Kimmel.
Also, I just want to thank all of you who have followed this story to the very end. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you guys. I am so sad to see Quinn go, but I am also happy that she continues to live on in peace. I hope this ending is everything you guys wanted it to be, and I hope that it is exactly what was needed to bring this incredible journey to the ending it deserves.
I really hope to see you guys in my next story. If you haven't already, check it out. It's called The Keeper, and I hope you guys will like it.
Thank you :)
"Angels we have heard on high
Sweetly singing o'er the plains
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strains."
It doesn't surprise me when Mercedes opens her mouth and sings the part where the original artist of the song says "Gloria, in excelsis Deo," but it does kind of surprise me how good she sounds without even warming up or anything.
Believe me, I've always known that Mercedes is an extraordinary talent, but I'm a little more observant today and a little emotional. Ever since I woke up, I've been thinking about things more deeply than I've ever thought about them, and Mercedes' singing voice is just another one of those things. I wish I had that kind of natural, raw talent. I know it probably looks really weird to everyone around me, but I close my eyes for a moment so I can take it all in.
"Come to Bethlehem and see Christ whose birth the angels sing," Mercedes continues her effortless perfection, and she doesn't stop until she shovels a forkful of powder sugared French toast into her mouth.
When Mom knocked on my door to wake me up this morning, I thought that I was going to be grouchy when I got out of bed because I could already feel the headache forming behind my eyes from not having slept enough. I thought that I was going to put on the pants to my new Christmas pajamas that Dad bought for me and stomp down the steps, irritated that I couldn't sleep in on Christmas morning.
I didn't sleep very well last night, and I'm sort of embarrassed to admit that it was because I was too excited.
I actually don't remember the last time I stayed up on Christmas Eve because I was too excited to sleep. It was probably between the ages of three and seven because three was when I was finally old enough to understand that Santa brings presents, and seven was when Frannie ruined it for me. I missed the days of lying awake at night, bubbling with anticipation for the following morning. I used to lie awake and think of every naughty thing I'd done for the year, then try to determine if it was a "big bad" or a "little bad." It was sort of like a game to wonder if Santa deducted presents for all of my big bads.
I was tired when we finally finished watching a nonstop marathon of "A Christmas Story" and decided to move on to "Home Alone." I was yawning when Mykel asked to watch his favorite "Jack Frost," barely hanging onto consciousness when Mercedes wanted to watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." It was finally my turn to pick the next movie and I took it seriously because it was the start of something new. It was going to become my tradition with them — the movie that we watch every single year — and I didn't want to blunder it by making a stupid decision. Dad handed me the remote and I turned on "The Santa Clause" because that actually is my favorite Christmas movie. Somehow, I managed to stay awake throughout my movie, but when Dad finally turned the TV off when it was over, I was grateful.
I thought that I'd go upstairs and lie down and pass right out because I was exhausted. But as soon as my head hit the pillow, my mind was wide awake and I couldn't shut it off. I felt that magic again. You know, the magic you used to feel when you were six-years-old, waiting up by the window to see if you could see Santa's sleigh when it touched down on your roof? That kind of magic. That kind of pure, exhilarating anticipation. I felt that again even as my eyes grew heavier.
That kind of anticipation made it hard for me to sleep.
I had a thousand questions running through my mind as I shifted my position multiple times to try and get comfortable.
What do they usually eat for Christmas breakfast? What time do we wake up? Do we wait for everyone to wake up or do we all wake up at the same time? What order do we open presents? Do we eat breakfast and then open them? Do we open them and then eat breakfast? Eat breakfast while we're opening them? What if Mom doesn't like my gifts? What if Dad thinks his are stupid? What if they didn't get me anything? I won't care if they didn't because they give me everything by just putting up with me, but it would suck if they didn't get me anything… What are Judy and Russel doing? Are they sitting by the fireplace watching "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" like me and Frannie used to? Is Russel sneaking downstairs to lay presents underneath the tree for Judy? Is Judy still going to make scrambled eggs with bacon for breakfast in the morning? Will she still be drunk by noon so it doesn't hurt so bad when Russel dashes off to spend time with his other woman? Who's going to pick up the shattered glass when she gets so drunk that her sadness turns into anger? And what about Beth? What's her first Christmas going to be like? Shelby's bringing her over later so she can open presents with me, but I won't see her on Christmas morning. I won't be there to see her little face when she opens up a toy. What if she doesn't like the ones I got her? And Rachel… I bought her these really expensive tickets to a broadway workshop. It's supposed to be for aspiring actresses and apparently Barbra Streisand is going to be one of the instructors for it. What if she doesn't like it though?
You see? I had a thousand things running through my mind, and all of them were more scary than the next. But the scariest question came around 5:00 in the morning when I finally felt myself drifting off into a peaceful slumber. That question is still haunting me even now, four hours later.
What if I don't fit in with their family traditions?
I didn't have much time to think about it before I rolled over and gave myself to sleep, but it was still on my mind when Mom knocked on the door to wake me up. I put my pajama pants on — the same red and black plaid flannel ones that both Mercedes and Mykel also have on — and held my breath the entire way down the steps. I glanced into the living room at first, and I was genuinely surprised when I saw just how many gifts ended up underneath the tree. It was a big jump from the three or four that were there when we went to bed last night.
I still don't have the answer to my scary question, but I don't think I need it.
Because sitting here at the table with my sister, my brother, my mother and my father? I feel like I belong. I feel like maybe the four of them were a puzzle once upon a time; a puzzle with all the right pieces fitting and interlocking inside one another. And up until this morning, I wasn't sure if I fit. But they made room for me somehow. They shaved their edges, rounded them a bit. Made some pieces smaller and some bigger, then rotated them. They made a space for me — for my puzzle piece — and now the five of us are a whole damn picture.
"Quinn," Mom calls my name as she scoops more fluffy scrambled eggs onto my plate. "Baby, it's your turn."
"My turn…?" My eyebrows furrow in the middle, but I still grab my fork and prepare to stab more eggs with it. "My turn for what?"
"You pick your favorite Christmas song," Mykel explains as he, rather disgustingly, squirts some syrup onto his scrambled eggs. "I picked The Temptations with their rendition of 'Silent Night.' Dad picked 'This Christmas.' Mom said 'All I Want For Christmas Is You,' and 'Cedes picked 'Angels We Have Heard On High.' What's your pick?"
"Um…" I swallow a mouthful of eggs and stare at Dad's phone as Mykel slides it across the table at me. "What if I don't have a favorite?"
"Everyone has a favorite Christmas song, Quinntessential." Dad nudges me with his elbow. "First one that pops in your head when you think of Christmas music. First one. That one's gotta be your favorite."
Well, I like Ariana Grande's Christmas stuff. Like "Santa Tell Me" and "Love Is Everything", but I don't think I'd say they're my favorite. I also like the one we always sang in church on Christmas Eve, it was like "simply having a wonderful Christmastime" or something like that, but again…. it's not really my favorite. I guess I could choose "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays" by N'Sync because that's a really fun one… but no… I don't know. Rachel sang something by Destiny's Child yesterday and I liked that. So maybe that's my favorite? No… Come on Quinn, think. It's important. This is the song you're going to pick every year at Christmas from here on out. It's gotta be a good one. Think…
"I do have one!" I scoop up the phone as soon as it comes to me and start typing it into the search bar on YouTube with a smile. "Me and Frannie used to play it on repeat every year while we were getting dressed to go to my grandma's! And my mom… Judy, I mean, she used to get so mad at us because we would sing more than we would actually get dressed."
"Alright then," Mom grins at me with excitement practically oozing from her pores. "Let's hear it."
I tap the "play" button and turn the volume on Dad's phone up so loud that the music is bouncing off every wall of the sweet-smelling kitchen. I guess I kind of thought that I wanted to keep this song all to myself. I thought that maybe it would hurt too bad to listen to it when I know it came with really good memories of Christmastime from the life I left behind when I came here. But oddly enough, I'm not sad at all. Mostly? Mostly, I'm just kind of excited to share it with them.
"Children sleeping. Snow is softly falling…" I start to sing and bob my head as I stab the last piece of my French toast with the tines of my fork.
"Oh my god, I love this one!" Mercedes puts her fork down the instant she recognizes the song and starts bobbing her head too. "Dreams are calling like bells in the distance…"
"We were dreamers
Not so long ago
But one by one we all had to grow up…"
"When it seems the magic's slipped away…" me and Mercedes sing together as Mom starts to clean up the table since we're all finished eating. "We find it all again on Christmas Day…"
"Believe in what your heart is saying
Hear the melody that's playing
There's no time to waste
There's so much to celebrate."
"Believe in what you feel inside
And give your dreams the wings to fly
You'll have everything you need…"
"If you just believe!" Me and Mercedes sing together loud and obnoxious. So obnoxious that Mercedes actually wraps her arm around my shoulders and throws her head back to the sky, which makes me laugh. "IF YOU JUST BELIEVE!"
"You two," Mykel laughs and shakes his head. "You two were cut from the same cloth. Weirdoes."
Me and Mercedes both laugh some more and I can't help but think about how nervous I was to share this song with them. It seemed forbidden, like it was the property of me and Frannie and me and Frannie only. But now I'm starting to think…
Maybe this song is good for singing with any sister.
"Wait a minute, 'Cedes." Mom holds one finger up at Mercedes to halt her from tearing open the silver wrapped present that Dad just handed her. Mom takes the present back from Mercedes' hands and looks at it like she's trying to see through it or something.
There's only three presents left under the tree and Dad already told us that the three left are ones for each of us. Mom's just trying to figure out whose is who, I think. She said she wrapped them according to color: all the silver ones were Mercedes, all the green ones were Mykel's and the red ones were mine. But I think she messed up a few times, because I ended up opening a pair of size nine Nikes that were meant for Mercedes a few presents ago. Since then, Mom's been eagle-eyeing each gift before letting us open them. I told her it wasn't a big deal to open a present and then hand it to its rightful owner, but she insisted that it's not the same. She says she likes to see the looks on our faces when we open up our own.
Again, I don't know why I was so worried before I fell asleep last night. I guess maybe I didn't actually think that the Joneses weren't going to buy me anything for Christmas. I guess maybe I was being a little dramatic and pessimistic. I will say that I didn't expect them to get me as much as they actually did, though. Especially considering how crappy the Christmas list that I gave them was.
Mykel mostly got some things for his dorm room and a few pairs of new shoes and a PlayStation 4. Mercedes got the designer bag that she wanted, new shoes, new clothes, a Northface jacket, AirPods, a new bedspread for her room, perfume and a pair of earrings. After seeing everything that they bought for Mercedes and Mykel, I knew that their gifts were really expensive. I kind of expected mine to be a little less expensive and maybe even a little general since I didn't give them a list of things I would have liked and I didn't think they knew me as well as they knew their own kids.
But I was wrong.
My first present was a pair of perfectly fitting, size seven, white Vans with rainbow soles. I absolutely loved those shoes the second I opened them and I thought there was no way it would get better than that. But it did. My second gift was the biggest one under the tree and I thought maybe Mercedes or Mykel would feel weird that the biggest gift under the tree goes to me, but they didn't bat an eyelash. I opened it and was so surprised that Dad thought to buy me a new TV for my room since the old one is one of those ancient tube TVs. I thought that was it because there's no way in hell they could top a TV, but the gifts kept coming! They got me new makeup from Sephora, my own pair of AirPods (which I didn't know I really wanted until after I got them), lights to go around the mirror at my vanity, Turtles All The Way Down by John Green, a perfume and lotion set from Bath & Body Works, new underwear and bras (because Mom says the ones I have are so skimpy that they're probably not comfortable), a rainbow pride flag that I can hang in my room, and a weighted blanket because Dad heard they help with anxiety.
I had to stop myself from crying at least a dozen times because… well, Mercedes and Mykel weren't crying and I wanted to take Bailey's advice and try to act like I am actually their child. I still don't feel like I deserve all of that, but I'm trying to let myself feel like I do because I'm their child now.
"Quinn, this one's yours," Mom hands me the silver one that was in Mercedes' hand once upon a time. "The red one is yours, 'Cedes. I got them mixed up."
"Thank you," I say as I take the present from her and tear it open. "Oh my god…" I gasp as soon as I open the gift box and see what's inside. It's so pretty… "Where did you get this…?! Are these actually hers?! Is this… oh my god… these are hers?!"
"Yep!" Mom sits back on the couch and looks at me with the proudest grin. "They're the original ones, too."
"No way!" My jaw drops.
I hold it up so everyone in the room can see how special what they just gave me is. I don't know how Mom and Dad knew, but they just… did. They knew somehow and got me the perfect gift! See, ever since I had Beth and handed her off to Shelby in the hospital, I've been kind of kicking myself because I didn't get anything with her little footprints on it. I watched them ink her little feet and press them against a paper, but I never thought to ask them if I could have one for myself. I don't know why, it just never dawned on me to ask. But now… I have them. I have her little footprints! They're so tiny! And somehow Mom managed to get them laminated and put into a phone case for me! They're actually INSIDE my phone case! They're not a picture printed onto it, they're her actual footprints!
"Oh my god, I'm never going to take it off…" I run my fingers along the smooth plastic and just stare at the two black inky footprints. "Where did you get these?!"
"Shelby gave 'em to me," Mercedes says and she has the smuggest little grin on her face. "At the hospital when you were still sick. I asked her if she had anything from the day Beth was born that she wouldn't mind parting with and she gave them to me. She reached in her wallet and pulled them out and gave them to me. I asked her if she was sure, and she said yeah. She said she has a bunch of things to remember Beth's babyhood from, it's the least she could give you."
"Oh my god… and you had them put into a phone case?!"
"Well, that part was Mom and Dad," she nods in their direction. "I just gave them the footprints and they did whatever they could."
"You can take 'em out too," Dad leans forward and takes the phone case so he can show me. "See? You can unscrew the plates right there and pop them out. So whenever you get a new phone or something, you can just put them in a different case."
"This is so beautiful… oh my god…" I feel tears coming on for the 13th time, but I choke them back. "I love it, guys. Thank you!"
I spring up off my butt so I can give out hugs to the people responsible for giving me such an amazing gift. I can't believe these are her actual footprints from the hospital. I can't believe I actually have a piece of my little baby. I can't believe Shelby let me have them… I have to thank her. I HAVE to. When she brings Beth over later, I have to hug her and thank her profusely for letting me have these… they're so precious. I swear, I'll cherish them forever. I swear I will.
"Alright you three," Mom mumbles as she pulls out of the hug I gave her. She pats my butt in a very loving kind of way and stands up. "I'mma go get a garbage bag so we can throw all these wrappers away. Then I want y'all to go upstairs and start gettin' some clothes on, 'cause everyone comin' for dinner at 3. I gotta finish cooking up some of that food."
"Okay," the three of us all mutter in unison and start crumbling up the wrapping paper that is scattered all over the floor.
"Quinn, is Rachel still coming over for dinner?" Dad asks.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she is. I haven't talked to her yet today, but last time I checked last night, she was still coming." I gather up all my Christmas gifts into one large pile so I can start carrying them upstairs once we're done cleaning. "We still have to exchange our own gifts, so I'm pretty sure she's coming."
"What about that baby?"
"Shelby said she'll bring her over around five. She mentioned something about maybe letting her stay the night but I dunno, I haven't asked about it since she said it."
"Mmkay," Dad nods. "And 'Cedes? What about Sam? He coming over for dinner?"
"Probably, yeah," Mercedes opens the garbage bag that mom brought in the living room and starts stuffing it. "We still have to exchange our gifts too."
"Mmmkay." He nods again and starts to help us clean up.
"Hey 'Tricey," he calls to Mom, who's busy helping Mykel pile his gifts up the way I piled mine. "There's still a gift under that tree…"
"No there ain't," Mom waves him off. "I checked, we cleaned it out up under there."
"Honey, I'm tellin' you. There's one more gift under that tree. Look." He points to it and Mom still just kind of ignores him.
"Whatever," she mumbles. "Quinn, go grab whatever it is under that tree and open it. I don't know who it is. I know damn well I ain't put nothin' extra up under there. I counted. Y'all each got the same amount of gifts to make it fair."
"Dad, maybe it's one you got Mom?" Mercedes suggests as she finishes stuffing the last little bit of wrapping paper into the garbage bag. "You know sometimes you forget."
"Yeah," Mykel agrees. "You said you got Mom a few gifts but she only opened one. Maybe that's another one of hers. What is it, Q-dog?"
Q-dog. That's new. I kinda like it.
"I dunno," I shrug and pick it up. It's rectangle-shaped and kind of flimsy but firm at the same time. It's wrapped in gold paper with a white bow in the middle, so we can't even tell whose it is by the color coding system that Mom had going on. "It feels like a picture or something."
"Ain't there a name on it?" Mom asks, still a little preoccupied.
"No," I shake my head and study it for any sign of a name. "It's blank. It's just gold with a bow."
"Hmph," Dad grunts and sits back down on the couch, taking a sip of the beer he's already been drinking even though it's not even 11:00 yet. "Why don't you open it and see what it is then?"
"Are you sure?" I try to hand it to him instead. "I don't wanna open it. What if it's like… a bomb or something?"
"You hear it tickin'?" Mom asks and finally starts to pay attention to me with the mystery present. "Or beepin'?"
"Well, no, but —"
"Just open it so we can see what it is," Mercedes leans over towards me like she's being super nosy. "I wonder who it belongs to."
"Me too," Mykel chimes in and sits back down like Dad did. "Weird how it don't have a name on it."
I feel like this is some sort of inside joke between the four of them that I'm not in on. Maybe another one of their traditions that I'm not aware of? I don't know, they're all just acting weird. They're all saying that they don't know where it came from or whose present it is, but it kind of seems like they do? It's like they're speaking in circles or in code or something. I'm completely lost…
"You guys…" I feel my stomach start to ache a little. "You guys, if this is some kind of —"
"Good god, girl. Will you just open it so we can see who it belongs to?!" Dad huffs. "We ain't got all day!"
"Okay…" I just shrug my shoulders softly and start by tearing off the bow. I toss the bow onto the floor beside where I'm sitting, then use the little hole I created from ripping the bow off to tear the rest of it open. And it's pretty anticlimactic, because all it is is a smooth, plastic black folder. "It's a folder," I laugh a little. "It's a gag gift!"
"Is it?!" Mom laughs too. "Now which one uh you little goof-asses did that?!"
The rest of them laugh right after Mom does and maybe it really was just a gag gift, but it still feels like they're waiting for something. Like they seriously know something that I don't know. Like something is about to pop out and scare me.
"Why don't you open it?" Mercedes urges. "Maybe there's money inside or something."
"Or a gift card," Mykel suggests.
"It doesn't feel like there's anything in it," I say as I feel the folder without opening it. "It feels pretty flat… I dunno," I shrug my shoulders again and flip it open on a whim since I'm pretty sure it's too flat for there to be anything inside of it that might harm me or scare me.
"What are those?" Dad leans forward and asks as he studies the papers inside the pocket of the folder.
"Yeah," Mom leans forward too. "What them papers say? Read 'em to me."
"Okay," I lick my lips to start reading. "State of Ohio… Department of Health, Office of Vital Records…"
Oh my god… are they serious?
"Mmmhh," the noise that comes out of my mouth is one that I've honestly never heard myself produce before. It kind of sounds like a groan or a baby animal grunting. I clasp my hand over my mouth and close my eyes because the tears rolling down my cheeks are so hot, so plentiful, so THICK…
I can't get my jaw to stop trembling. And my hands are trembling too, like something inside of my arm came unhinged and undone and I can't control my hand anymore. I feel like I'm dreaming. I feel like I went to sleep last night and haven't woken up yet and this is all some dream… I feel like I'm not real. I feel like I'm not really sitting here in front of them, reading this. I feel like… like how I always feel right before I lose myself and go wandering. It's like the day I found out I was bipolar and left my body or the night Puck raped me and I ran and hid. And a little bit how I felt in the hospital when I was walking the hallways in search of myself. For a second, I feel like it's happening again as I hold the folder open and stare at the papers inside of them. I feel like I'm about to dissociate again…
But maybe I really am getting better, because I tell myself that it's not necessary — that this isn't a situation I have to run and hide from — and I don't. Just like that, I stay where I am and I don't leave my body.
"Mmmh," I make that noise again as more tears roll off my cheeks and onto my pajama shirt. I feel like a dam inside of me has broken and I may never stop crying…
"Well?" Mom says and I can hear the smile in her voice. "You gonna keep reading? I'd like to know what them papers say."
"And me too. You can't just keep us waiting." Dad's tone is playful when he speaks.
"Umm," I sniff and try to use my shoulder to wipe my face free of tears, but it doesn't work because more just fall. "Certificate of…" I sniff again. "Certificate of Decree of Adoption… this…" Another sniff. I can't pull it together… "Completion of parts I. and II. of this document hereby certifies and consents to the decree of adoption of…" My voice cracks just before I say my name because it… it's official once I say it… "Lucy Quinn Fabray, born on the 11th day of the 11th month of November. Completion of these documents henceforth and hereby certify that Jared Langston Demetrius Jones, Jr. and Patrice Elane Jones will become the legal adoptive parents, and Lucy Quinn Fabray, a minor, is to legally become Quinn Fabray Jones…"
I put the papers down because I can't read anymore. Judy really did it… she did it. She did it for ME, she terminated her rights for ME. And these people… these beautiful, kind, caring, people — this FAMILY... they want me. The real me. The gay me. The bulimic me. The bipolar me. The post-traumatic-stressed me. The good me, the bad me, the selfish me, the selfless me, the WHOLE me. They want me. Not just bits and pieces, parts that they can pick and choose to love and to hate. They want me. Me in my entirety. It's not just in theory when they mail these papers back and the judge notarizes it. It's not just in theory anymore, I am their DAUGHTER. Legally. I am theirs and they are mine.
And maybe… just maybe… I get a happy ending after all.
"You guys…" I wipe my tears with my hands and try to talk clearly, but I can't. "You guys…" I hiccup.
"Quinn," Mom walks over to where I'm sitting and kneels down on the floor next to me. "Baby, from the moment 'Cedes brought you home last year and you looked at me with them pretty green eyes of yours…" she shakes her head. "...I knew right then that you were mine. I knew that this was where you were supposed to be. I knew that you were meant to be inside our hearts forever. I didn't need no piece of paper saying that. You're my baby. And I would love to have to… WE would love to have you… if you'll have us."
"You already feel like my sister, Quinn," Mercedes leans in and hugs me too. "You already feel like such an integral part of my life. We just wanna make it official."
"There's enough love to go around." Even Mykel puts his hand on my leg. "And you a pretty cool sister to have, if I'm keeping it real. It does feel like you belong here."
"You have always, always been totally and completely my little girl," Dad rubs my shoulder. "And you always will be, too. Always, honey. We ain't ever gonna give up on you."
"All you gotta do is say yes," Mom strokes my hair away from my face. "We wanna be your parents for good. Alls you gotta do is say yes. That you'll be our daughter."
I look at each of them in their eyes and I can actually feel how much they mean it. I can feel that they're not saying this to make me smile or just to be polite and make me feel welcome here. I can feel how much they mean it when they say they love me, feel how much they mean it when they say that this is where I belong.
I look down at the papers again, then take them out of the folder because I just want to hold them. I want to hold them and feel them and know that they're real.
And when I take them out, the thing that takes me by surprise is the poem written on the blank space above the pocket. It's written in mom's loopy, neat, cursive handwriting.
For Quinn -
If you're feeling down or weak,
You can always count on me,
I will always pick you up.
Nothing's ever gonna change,
Nothing's getting in my way,
I will always lift you up.
I know sometimes you're feeling lost,
It's hard to find your place in it all,
But you don't have to fear.
Even when you mess up,
You've always got my love.
I'm always right here.
Anything, come what may, don't look back.
Forget yesterday.
It's not where you come from, it's where you belong.
There's nothing I would trade.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
You're surrounded by love and you're wanted.
So never feel alone.
You are home with me,
Right where you belong.
~ Mom, Dad, Mykel, Mercedes, Whitney Houston & Bobby Brown.
I close the folder to keep my tears from dripping down onto it and smearing the blue ink pen that Mom used to write it. I close the folder and I look at them again.
"Yes." I say.
December 25
I know it's been a while since I've written in this thing and I hope that by some weird stroke of fate, I wasn't too badly missed.
They're adopting me. It's official, they signed the papers and so did Judy and Russel and all they have to do is mail them off to the judge to get them finalized. It feels like everything is falling into place and for once, I'm not afraid. You know, I used to think that things falling into place were just a set up for me to be disappointed and depressed when they fall apart again. I don't think that way anymore. I don't think that things are going to fall apart again because I think good things deserve to happen to me.
And maybe things won't always be alright, you know? Maybe there will be some days where I don't want to get out of bed because me and Rachel had a fight or maybe I'll continue to do stupid things like kissing Bailey. Maybe things from here on out won't always be sunshine and rainbows. Maybe things will be terrible and not okay.
But I have to trust that they will be okay soon enough and even through the rainy weather, the sun will shine again sometime. All I have to do is hold on.
I want to tell you all about Christmas and how amazing it felt to be part of a family for once, but the truth is that Christmas isn't over yet. Everyone is downstairs, including Beth and Rachel. We all just ate dinner and we're getting ready to play family games and sing karaoke. I had to pee after drinking three glasses of wine, and I was about to go back downstairs when it hit me. I remembered that this thing was in my drawer and it felt fitting to get it all down on paper for the last time.
When I thought about writing in this for the last time, I thought that my last entry was going to be pages upon pages of sadness and reflection. I thought that the last time writing in this would be because it was my last day on earth. So I guess in that sense, I'm sorry that this isn't longer.
I just want to write down that I am good. I have therapy and I have a family and a girlfriend who loves me and great friends surrounding me and two sisters plucked from the best of the best. I have parents who won't let me fall anymore. I have people who care about me.
I am good.
I'm actually writing this to say goodbye. I don't know if it's going to be a forever goodbye or a simple "see you later!" but for now, it feels like a forever. When I opened this, I don't think I knew that I was going to say goodbye, but when I started writing, it felt right.
Thank you, journal. Thank you for being my friend, my mutual sounding board, my biggest confidant. Thank you for listening to me whenever nobody else in this world would, thank you for hearing me when I didn't even want to speak. Thank you for everything you've done for me and everything you've taught me.
I don't think I'll be needing you much anymore, but if I do? I'll know where to find you.
Thank you for healing me.
I wish you (and me) all the best,
Quinn Fabray.
