There’s things you never understood about me, Beck. Even with all our routine, and our “everything” you could not see beyond that. I was expecting that from you. A writer must have the ability to see the potential of untold stories, our story. But you couldn't. I gave you everything so you could see, and you rejected it. You couldn't understand, and I don't blame you, love is scary.
I dream about you sometimes; you and Candace laughing at me and I am in the dark, the more I try to reach you both the colder I get, but in the end of the nightmare I am alone, its scary at first, but I can’t hear you anymore, Guinevere Beck, you and Candace are far away from me, and it relieves me; It is in the dark that we can see the truly light, and oh, I am waiting; patiently waiting for my light.
My life has been numb. Not painful, just incredibly quiet. I don’t hear my neighbors fighting anymore; I don’t have to worry about you and the problems around you. With everything that happened people are giving me my space to grieve. And I am, even if you wouldn't agree with me on that. You could have been so much more than what they see you as; more than one book, but you left me no choice. You broke my heart, my ego and everything that I had done was worth nothing to you, you used me, and 'til the very end I loved you, and did right by you, I granted your last wish. You became famous, just like you wanted. You should see the those damn coke snorers like Peach saying your name at late-night shows. Upper class assholes who would humiliate you before me now instagram your book with the hashtags #beckmurder #sad #booknight. I hate it, Beck. They will never know who you truly were. No one will, not even me.
Love is painful, and mistakes are made every day, we just need to learn from it. I am the one who lives, and people like Benji and Peach are the ones who die. You weren't meant to die, I didn’t wanted you to die, but you just had to go and ruin everything, didn't you? You didn't gave me a chance, you ran from the truth. And the truth is that I loved you more than anyone, more than your father, Benji, Peach or any other. I am thinking about that because I hope you knew at the time it was over. I did my best not to ruin your beauty as my hands gripped tight on your neck. In your eyes you knew it was over, you could sleep. You knew you made the wrong choice, but there was nothing you could do to save yourself. You died in the hands of someone who loved you, that's more than most of us can get. I spent some time looking at you, the hair I would never touch again, the hands I would never hold and the lips I would never kiss. It hurts me more than it hurt you. My pale hands had to close your eyelids, and I said bye to your blue eyes one last time.
Mr. Mooney taught me hard lessons, but so did love, and love is cruel. When I crossed all the lines for you I got lost, now I am hoping I will be found by someone who is worth all the pain. Or don't cause pain at all. I am no longer searching someone; you taught me to be patient. Someone will search for me this time.
Consequently Mooney's became famous after you left, people ask me if I was your boyfriend, and I add the "ex". I probably shouldn't say this, but it feels good to leave you behind, and you did cheated me. It's funny what strangers can do sometimes, there was an old lady who hugged me and cried on my shoulder. "What a horrible thing to happen, a pity". I agree with her. So many people ask me if I'm okay that I'm starting to question myself. I feel good, but am I?It was the start of a new life, but why it felt like I was chained to being your ex? I'm over you, can't everyone else be too?
As I was organizing the everyday mess of another agitated day - thanks to you - Blythe approached me from behind, which scared the shit out of me, making me let some books fall. She can be really quiet when she wants to, which is rare.
"Hey Joe… I know how hard everything must be for you" - I hear her voice way too much since she started dating Ethan.
"Its okay Blythe, really" - I brush her off, turning my attention to the books, but she doesn't give up so easily.
"It's okay Joe, you gotta let yourself be vulnerable sometimes" Her voice echoes in my head, vulnerable? What does she knows about being vulnerable. People like her cry about a netflix show in front of others and call it being vulnerable. I notice I wasn't moving, then I continue to put the books in order.
"…Something that really helped me to cope with loss when my baby died was yoga and…"- What? A baby?
"I'm sorry, but… Your baby?"- I stare her, visibly confused. She shakes her head, sighing.
"My poodle, Macbeth, I can't even…" - She fakes her tears, and I nod my head, agreeing with her loss, saying a muffled "Sorry" - not really - to her, she is too busy rubbing her face with one hand, to pay attention.
"Anyways, Joe" - She turns to me again, smiling, the fastest recovery I've ever seen, still her makeup is smudged and her voice is high pitched. "I have a good friend, called Maddie, she is a therapist, but she didn't went to college… I know saying like this sounds fishy, but it would be good, you know, since she is…. Like you, and I was talking to her about everything that happened with… You know, and she is really interested in helping you. It's free too." - She made sure to highlight the free part. - "Her name is Maddison Cooper, just google it" - I blink a few times, processing the information. It's hard to concentrate when everything she says sounds like a gossip.
She talked about me to someone - who supposedly is like me, whatever that means, and she got interested in me? Also, she helps people for free? That makes two of us.
"Thanks Blythe, I'll look into it" - Curiosity takes the best of me, even if her being Blythes friend is a huge red flag.
Later in my apartment I did searched her. Her website looks cheap, but with good intent. "Generosity brings back generosity", I wish that was true, but past events are clearly proof that isn't true. There's a phone number, apparently her personal one. I search the adress in the bottom of the site and found out she attends in her own house. That's a bad choice. Who knows what kind of people she is talking to? What if someone dangerous asks for help? Isn't she scared? Or… She wants to be seen?