Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

"So, where are you going?
Not asking where you have been."
Shred, White, And Blue by Attack! Attack!

I'm not sure if hearts were meant to beat this fast.

My poor heart is pounding, making me feel powerful. The constant drumming assures me that I'm alive.

I'm alive.

There's a thought most wouldn't have to assure themselves of. I, however, spent enough time in a living-death to have permission to ponder the question.

The sweet wind plays with my hair and whips at my cheeks, its cold temperature shocking me into happiness.

The growl of the motorcycle vibrates through my body. I'm reminded that I have control—over this loud machine, and over my life.

The latter is something that I'm just coming to realize. It's actually a scary thought—me, having control over my own life? Not blaming outside forces for my happiness, mirth, suffering, or despair? Terrifying.

For my entire life, the world has been my scapegoat. I've placed the blame on anyone but to whom it belongs—to myself.

When I had few friends in Phoenix, it wasn't my fault. No, it was the fault of the people who I never reached out towards for friendship. It was the fault of the people who—more likely than not—would have willingly gotten to know me.

When I was moping over being sent off to a far-away town, it wasn't my fault I was there in the first place. No, it was my mother's fault, because she finally found someone to love. It was her fault, because she forced me onto the one-way flight to Washington.

When I hardly talked, hardly functioned like a human being for months after experiencing a break-up, it wasn't my fault my father was going mad with worry. No, it was Edward's fault. It was Edward's fault for wanting me to live a real teenage life, not a watered-down Anne Rice novel.

I'm accepting that all of these things were, in fact, my fault. In Phoenix, I could have reached out, but didn't. Soon enough, my excuse for not trying was that the other kids didn't understand me. Of course they didn't—when did I give them a chance to know a me to understand? When I moved to dark, dreary Forks, it was my decision. My mother gave me every opportunity in the world and more to stay home with her. Not only did she give me that, but months later, she offered me a room in her sunny Floridian home. I refused both offers.

And the break-up. Oh, how I could think about this for years. With this issue, there is no black or white. There's no totally Edward's fault, or totally my fault. The whole picture is as gray as the sky stretching out above me. I loved him. He loved me (of this, I'm sure. Although I doubted it for months following the break-up, I really can't deny it any longer). Where it all went wrong, I can only guess at. Maybe there are reasons lions and lambs don't hang out. Maybe they're just not meant to be. Maybe if Edward had stayed, we would have been together until my face was a wrinkled up prune, and maybe we would have broken up before graduation rolled around. Maybe he would have initiated the break-up. Maybe I would have.

So many maybes. So many variables when thinking about the future.

But, starting now, I'm ridding my vocabulary of the word 'maybe'. I'm smashing my rear view mirror—starting today, I'm never looking back.

My point is, the chapter of Edward in the book of my life may actually be over. I'm just thankful that it was a long and happy one. And I'm happy there was a moral.

Maybe I'm being too optimistic, but, you know what?

Although I know it's happened dozens of times before, as I'm wiping out on my bike now, I'm pretending it's the first time ever.

A/N: I don't really know... I suppose this would be set between Edward leaving Bella and the cliff-diving Bella did. I hope you enjoyed!