I'm telling you now, this isn't all the kids. It got long and I knew I wasn't going to finish it tonight, so I decided to post what I had. I'm going to take the story off of complete because I don't know how many chapters it will take to finish this. Right now this is only three people and it's relatively long.
Either way I hope you enjoy it.


Dear Glee Club,

I can honestly say, that despite this being my last goodbye to you all (for it is, not some sick joke that you might think it is), I'm not as sad as I should be about it. You were supposed to be there for me. We were supposed to be there for each other. Sometimes we were, sometimes we were backstabbing each other in the back and when that happened, did you stop to think who got the most hilts sticking from them? No, but just in case you are wondering now, me.

When you get this letter, for one day you will, probably from my own fathers, I hope you realize what you've done to me. What you all did. For when I walked into that room, that room that sparkled with people seemingly similarly musically inclined and brimmed with unshed potential, I was strong. Vivacious even, but you guys tore that down. You broke me, and I bet you enjoyed every damn minute of doing it.

That's why I shed no tears as I write this. I hold no regrets as I say goodbye, no 'sorry' to maybe but a few, since that few sometimes (not always but sometimes) tried to help, even if the attempt was mediocre at best and few and far between. For the most part, you all took your turns in destroying something strong. I walked in as a proud, strong-willed girl, and I left broken, defeated, worthless, and tired.

I doubt you will even read this, if you'll even care enough to hear the final goodbyes of a girl you hated. A girl you probably celebrated the death of, but if you do decide to listen on, I'm sure you will find things to interest you. After all, if there is one thing the glee club can agree on, it's the use of blackmail, and besides, you all will need a new scape goat after I'm gone, won't you? Why not try each other on for size? Trust me; I have enough to say about each one of you to last a lifetime.

I know all of your secrets, because if there's two things you all agreed on it's that I was trust-worthy of your secrets at least one point in your life, and worthless about 99% of the rest of the time. That statistics made up, but it's probably still more optimistic than the actual result, and at one point I would have grasped at that little straw. Now though, I'm too tired to. Too sick of all the – excuse my language – complete bull shit you all put me through. So hear it goes, my list of secrets, my mini letters to each and every one of you. Enjoy hearing my goodbyes. It's the last time you'll hear from me.

Let's start with the top – Mr. Schuester, how are you? Do you finally understand now? Or are you still confused, shaking that perfectly curled head of yours, wondering why? Probably the latter, you were always rather oblivious, after all. A shameful fault really, in retrospect. Don't get me wrong, you were my favorite teacher and I respected you. Maybe at one time I could have trusted you, could've relied on you like the rest of the glee club did, but you quickly shut that down.

It's funny really, you always talked about us being a family and yet, what was I to you? The ugly step-child? The distant cousin that was only invited for necessity and a few good laughs? I guess I'll never know. I guess I never really cared, either. Either way, you ignored me in favor of the others. Who cared that Rachel was caught trying to puke her guts out by Miss Pillsbury because she wanted to be pretty, Quinn was pregnant! Who cared that Rachel's heart was broken into a thousand pieces; the glee club was finally unified on something! Who cared that Rachel was missing, Quinn was having her baby!

Who cared that Rachel wasn't talking much anymore? Who cared that she never smiled, and when she did, it was fake? Who cared that she was obviously not okay? Who cared that the glee club was talking about her, that they excluded her from everything despite the notion of family? Who cared that she was crying? Who cared that she was singing a song about hurt? Who cared that she stormed out of the club, crying? Who will care when she doesn't show up for school the next day?

Apparently, not you. Maybe at one time you did, but I can't honestly remember when. Sure, you asked about me when you thought I looked down, but did you honestly want to know the truth? Or did you want me to say 'I'm fine' one more time, even if it was a lie, just so you wouldn't have another emotional teenage angst problem to deal with? I always wanted it to be the former, hell, I nearly convinced myself that it was, thousands of times, but it wasn't. Asking if I was okay was just another thing on your check list: Go grocery shopping. Check. Write a new playlist for sectionals. Check. Ask Rachel if she's okay. Check.

I really wanted you to be that one person that, years later when I stood on that pedestal, that beautiful stage with the bright lights all aimed at me, I could thank as 'that man that got me through those torturous years known as high school' but I can't. You failed in being that man, and now, you can finally realize what that F on your report card costs. A girl's life. I'm going to kill myself Mr. Schue, and congratulations, you've made it onto my people to thank for that list instead. Enjoy.

Maybe I'm being mean? Most definitely. You are a wonderful teacher as long as you don't allow yourself to be blinded by what you want to see as opposed to what is truly there. You cared, in your own way, and I'll always appreciate those times where you did help me, even if it wasn't often. You are a good person, and I hope you take this letter, my final goodbye to you, to heart and better your eye sight so that if another girl comes through with a big smile and sad eyes, you can see through it and help her before it's too late.

It's too late for me, by morning I'll probably be gone, and by the time you get this letter, I'll most definitely be gone from this world, and you failed me. I never want you to forget that, I looked up to you, begged for you to notice, to take care of me at school, but you didn't. I don't want you to forget me, I want you to always remember me when you walk into that choir room that I'll never set foot in again, but I don't want to haunt you.

When you walk into that room, think of me smiling, belting out the words to my favorite song, or haggling you for the next solo. Think of me as that girl with the amazing voice and bright future. Think of me as that unbroken girl who took the world in strides. And when a girl comes through like me, help her. If you see someone sad, talk to them. Don't take a 'fine' as an answer. But most of all don't punish yourself. In the end, this was my decision, my own selfish decision and I take all fault for it. I want you to remember me as a happy thing, not as a regret.

Don't dwell on me; don't think of me as a what if. You might have been able to save me in the beginning, back when I first walked into that room, when I first auditioned, but in the end, no one could have. I was – I am – too far gone that nothing can bring me back. No matter what, you were my favorite teacher, and even if you weren't there when I needed you to be, you tried your hardest and I will always appreciate that, always.

Remember me, please. Remember me in the hallways, the show room, on that stage in the auditorium, in your classroom. Wherever you have a happy memory of me, remember me there. But most of all, remember me in your students, in those fresh faces that haven't yet given up everything, that aren't too far gone for help. Remember me in your children both at the school and at home, and pledge to always be there for them, like you tried for me. Goodbye Mr. Schue - and thank you, truly.

I guess that leaves the rest of you now, my peers. I don't know if one of you is reading this aloud or if you are passing it amongst yourselves quietly or even if you got this far, I hope you have. I wrote both good and bad for Mr. Schuester, all though I tried – I tried hard, to keep it criticizing. It seems that even in my farewells, I can't but help being kind, of trying for that one good thing about each and every one of you but there is one – maybe two, that I can't find anything. Maybe you know who you are, maybe you don't. Maybe you are praying it isn't you, that I can find one thing to say kind about you.

Congratulations Santana, you are that one person that succeeded in imparting no good feelings, no fair memories that I can tell you amongst the bad. Congratulations on being such a straight up bitch I have nothing good for you. You made my life hell and you enjoyed every minute; every tear that fell was met with a laugh, every attempt of reconciliation met with ridicule. Every time I felt that I did something well, that I accomplished something, something that will get me some respect, you merely splashed a nasty scowl on that pretty face of yours and scorned me some more.

I doubt you even care about these words, I doubt you've even stayed this long, but who cares. This isn't about you, this isn't about me getting some pretty revenge before I bite the big one. This is about me finally getting my feelings out, about me finally committing to paper what I've kept inside for so long. This is – like most of my life – is solely for me. I want to leave no words left unspoken, leave nothing bottled in before I go. I want to be at peace with myself before I leave. That is all.

Santana, you never let me have a peaceful moment in my life. Everything I did around you was dissected, I could never relax – I was never at peace. It's funny really when you think about it, that you hated me so much but you also left me with something. In that moment of weakness Santana, you confided in me, and for two years – two long miserable years that you've left for me – I kept your secret. I would have gone to the grave with it too, after all, two people can keep a secret as long as one is dead, but I promised myself no secrets before I go, no debt left unpaid. This isn't revenge Santana, this – although you don't deserve it – is advice from a dead girl.

Santana you're unhappy. I know why you are unhappy, and you know why you are unhappy. You need to admit it Santana, stop letting your fear control you and embrace what you are. You may be a heartless, vindictive cold woman who cares for few but herself, but you are not a coward. And you need to stop acting like one. I know that you are afraid of what the world will say, but realize this.

The glee club didn't care when Kurt admitted he was gay, or Quinn told even she was pregnant; they forgave Quinn for making a one night mistake with Puck and they embraced Brittany for admitting her bisexuality. They will accept you for who you are. And if you have them, why care about the rest of those people? If they can't accept you, if they can't care for you and let you be free to love whomever at the same time, they don't deserve you.

By denying it, all you do is make yourself miserable, and because you are unhappy, others are unhappy and they don't deserve that. You may not have cared about me and my death might just be an unpleasant surprise before you wipe it from your memory, simply categorize it as another stunt by that freak Berry girl, but what if it happened to someone you cared for? What if next time, it's Brittany that you break beyond repair?

What if it's Brittany you never see again? Maybe she won't be dead; probably not actually, Brittany loves life and is the embodiment of youth in itself, but if you keep pushing her away, if you keep denying it all, she'll leave. And then you will be alone in your bitterness. I don't care for you; you hurt me too much for me to have but disdain for you, but no one deserves to be alone, not even a heartless woman whose life's ambition was to make sure I was.

Tell Brittany you love her. Hold her in your arms and just love her. Don't give a damn about the rest of those people; let it be just Brit and you. Maybe then, you can stop hurting people to make up for your sheer anger. Maybe another person won't get hurt like I did. I know you don't care; I know you will just deny what I said if anything comes to fruit from it; but whatever. It's not like I'll be around to appreciate you listening to me.

You are a horrible person; there is no other way to say it. Quite honestly, if there is any person in the world I hate, it's you. You made my life hell only because I knew you were in love with your best friend and I'll never forgive you for tearing me to pieces. You never tried to help me, if you saw me down; you kicked me and walked away. I hate you and honestly couldn't care less if you didn't listen to this. But if you do, I hope you learned something from these words.

I hope you think twice before you saw that jarring comment. I hope you think twice before you sleep with someone just because you know someone else loves them. I hope you'll try to be nicer to everyone in general. I hope you learn that life could be so much better if you just let go of whatever makes you bitter and join in on it rather than being too afraid to let yourself take the plunge.

Most of all, I hope you find love. I hope you take my advice and tell Brittany you love her, I hope you care about yourself enough to honor me in that small way. I hope you love her, and spend your life with her. I have nothing else to say Santana but goodbye. You have a life ahead of you, do something worthwhile with it.

Santana's done. Mr. Schuester's done and now I have only nine people left. Nine people to address before I bid my adieu. Nine left before I leave this stage my life's become for good. It's funny rather, that the next person I'm addressing, I met on the stage.

Hey Tina, how is life? Hopefully better than mine will be by the time you get this. Of all the people on this, I have the kindest words about you. You were sweet to me, and we were friends. You always tried to make sure I felt better, that I felt like I belonged in a room I really didn't. You weren't always successful and we definitely had a fair share of fights along the rocky road of our friendship, mostly because I was such a selfish jerk all the time, but you still tried.

In a world of darkness, you held a candle out to me, and I'll never forget that. I repayed you in heart ache and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm putting you through this, I wish we had never met, just because the pain I must be putting you through is unfair, but at the same time I'm glad we did. In a selfish way, I'm glad I knew you. You are a truly wonderful person, full of love and compassion, and you are talented. God almighty, Tina you are talented. Use that voice to your greatest benefit.

You are hardly as shy as you once were; use these final words of mine to shed the rest of that shell you preserved yourself in. Come out into this world and shock it. Show them your talents; knock them off their feet with that beautiful voice of yours. Never let them break you like they broke me; always keep your head up high and a smile on your face. If ever, you feel it hard to keep that smile on, feel yourself tired when you shouldn't be, get help.

Never let yourself fall down and try to pick yourself up by yourself. Never push people away. Embrace them, love them, and cherish them. Don't try to tackle the world by yourself. Never think you don't need someone. You do, everyone does. I thought I didn't and look where that got me. Dead by my own hand, six feet under the stars in a place no one goes to find, in a place no cares to look for.

Make sure that if you get hurt, you haven't burnt so many bridges that no one cares to help you. Make friends, find love, care for people. Mike loves you, never take him for granted, cherish him and your time together. You never know if something might happen, something unavoidable that takes you away, but never do something so stupid that you lose him because of it.

Love people, use your voice, find your place in the world. I don't know what else I can say to you. I don't know how I can convey my gratitude for you being there. I don't what other advice I can partake to you. I loved you as a friend, and I hope you will eventually forgive me for this. Of all the people I hate doing this to, it's you. All I ask of you is that you don't let this sully our friendship. Please, remember me for the good.

Don't hate me for this, please. I hope you can forgive me for doing this, but I'm tired, so tired. I hate what I've become and there's no escape from it. Each day my pit gets deeper and deeper and no one can reach far enough to save me, hardly anyone's trying. I can't pull myself out, I've tried and I've tried. I'm sick of it all, and I 'm finding my way out. This is my only escape Tina, I need to be free. This is the only way.

Remember me in my happiness, remember me in our friendship, you were my best and sometimes only friend Tina, I'll appreciate you forever. Live a long and prosperous life. Become famous and have lots of beautiful Asian babies with Mike. You deserve it most of all, goodbye. Forgive me.


Sad? Well this story was never meant to be happy. I'm sorry again that this is not all of it but I hope you enjoyed what I have down. I'll post the rest soon, until next time!