A/N: hi all, yup, this is a re-post, you can thank the person who reported this for that -_-

Also, some said that this was a little self absorbed of the character, but please try and understand this is how she deals with the pain of not feeling good enough. I know it may sound petty but sometimes telling yourself they'll be unhappy without you is the only way to stop the tears.

Dear Edward,

I can see it now.

My work printed on the glossy pages of that fashion magazine.

And you, flipping through the pages, running your caffeine-hyped fingers over my face and new name.

You hear the sound of those high heels you have come to hate and you quickly close the cover and flip it over. She wouldn't like to know you have always been keeping track of what I photograph.

She comes in and sits across from you and frowns at the magazine in front of you, but says nothing. She doesn't want another fight.

It would make too many.

You think back to your high school days and sigh; you wish you could go back in time. You can remember the way your locker door squeaked when you opened it, and the smell of the pens that leaked on the middle shelf. You can feel the weight of your backpack because of all your chemistry books.

You had so much promise.

The sound of my quick steps sends an evil smile across your face, you love the fact that I'm pathetic enough to run past you with my head down. She comes up and grabs your hand and but your heart doesn't leap from her touch like it did with mine. You look down at her and smile past the small twinge of unease that has somehow worked its way into your stomach, shaking off that discomfort you feel all too often.

You look past her at my retreating back, my ponytail swinging from its place under my hat.

You wonder when I started to run.

She says something but you weren't listening, you smile and nod anyways and kiss her cheek. She smiles, she has no idea, and you want it to stay that way.

You know people talk about you now, and what you did, you feel something like quilt coil in your belly, but that can't be right, because that would mean you care if I'm hurt.

You close your locker and push the lock closed. The smell of her perfume secretly makes you sick but you hold back that grimace as she embraces you.

But you wanted this, remember?

It was your words that broke us, not mine. You can tell yourself how much of it was both of us, but you know and you always will, that you did it.

The sound of her banging the morning table brings you back from the past, she opened to magazine, my smiling face looks back at you. You snatch it out of her hands and yell at her to stay out your private stuff. She yells back that it was right there in the open, you push your chair back and leave the room, the sound of her crying follows you.

The sound of the school bell haunts you as you walk to your bedroom. You notice I don't eat lunch with my friends and you wonder where I went. But you don't go looking for me. You're too stubborn for that, but I always loved that about you.

You're sitting at a table with her, and no one else. She likes it, you aren't so sure. Sometimes you think back to me and how I liked to laugh. You miss always laughing. Now things seem too serious.

But you moved on, remember?

Barely a day after, I was history, remember?

My friends hate you, they look at you with disgust, sometimes you look at yourself the same way.

I avoid you, and you find it's getting harder to forget me. Now my face, my smile, my laugh haunt you and you wish it would go away.

My family all tell me that you will regret hurting me in the future, so how's that going?

Do you regret it? Do I haunt your dreams, and send your heart racing every time you think of me touching you? Do you miss how I used to kiss you?

Does she notice?

Does the way your eyes linger register to her? Do you hide it well?

Her fingers wrap around your leg and you flinch, glancing down at her and forcing a smile.

People tell me you repulse them, watching you flaunt your new toy in front of me.

I push away the words because I don't want to know.

When it comes to you now, I just don't want to know.

Sometimes I wonder, do you go on the bus just to watch me cry? Does it make you feel better to know you still have that effect on me?

I wonder when you became so cruel.

You tell me I don't need to get off.

That it doesn't matter to you that I'm on there too.

I want to curse at you. Scream until my lungs are raw because you don't understand.

I walk the extra hour down the highway because watching you go home with her kills me inside.

Don't you know that I'm not as strong as I play myself to be?

Doesn't it show to you, someone who knows me better than anyone?

You slam the bedroom door, pressing the lock—the one you thought would be used for the other things so long ago – down and toss the magazine across the room.

How did it come to be like this?

You glance at the pictures of her and you at prom that now sit along the dresser. Dust blankets the glass diluting the red of from your shirt that compliments the red of the rose on her wrist.

I remember the kisses you shared with her and the way my heart skipped that painful beat when I saw you there. The way the air choked me, and my feet stumbling along the stone stairs. I remember the sturdy hands of a friend as she pulled me away from your smiling faces.

I remember the pain.

I drank a lot that night.

I wanted to forget.

It didn't work.

You remember graduation.

The way we all lined the gym in our dresses of black and red.

Could you tell I was nervous?

That I stumbled on the first step of the stairs?

Or were you to focused on her?

I sat beside a boy who liked me and he ignored me.

I messed it up with him. Hurt him. And I know, I acted just like you.

Would you be disappointed in me if you knew what I did? That I only kissed him because I missed you? Would you even recognize the me I have become?

Sometimes I don't recognize myself.

The summer came and you had little life outside her.

You missed those parties.

No one invited you.

But that's what you wanted, wasn't it?

Her and no one else?

Did you forget that this is a small town? That the stories we create are retold to any ear that will listen?

Everyone knew.

You remember when you messaged me to tell me your new cell phone number.

In case I needed it.

She frowned when you sent it to me. She knew you hadn't forgotten mine like you said you had.

It was that summer you told me you would miss me when you left. When you told me how much you still remembered about me.

Do you still remember now?

She knocks on the door. A tentative tap against the hard wood.

You sigh, rubbing your hands along your face before turning your back on the memories and opening the door.

She flings herself into your arms. Her makeup running down her cheeks, long black patterns painting her pale skin and staining your shirt. Her greying hair falls over your biceps and tickles your nose, you bite your lip against the urge to pull away and wipe your face.

She mumbles that she's sorry; that I don't matter, that she knows you love her.

You lean your chin on her head and nod, you know this already.

But this is your life and you apologize to, you're to haggard to argue anymore.

You say you'll throw the magazine away, just like you've lied before.

She nods and sighs, content that she has you for another day.

And you sigh to, trapped in a life you thought you wanted for another day.

You remember the easy laughs, the smiles that used to bring out your own and you wonder if I make someone else experience that, make someone's heart break when I leave, and form when I return like you used to say I did for you.

I remember that one and only e-mail you ever sent me.

The one where you told me you can see the two of you married and happy.

I remember the pain those words caused me.

The way they ripped through the skin and bone that surrounded my heart, ripping away the little bit I healed.

And now, I wonder, were those predictions true?

Did you get all you ever hoped for and more?

In the end, was the pain you put me through, the betrayal, and lies worth it?

Was she worth it?

And are you happy?

I hope so.

Together forever is an awfully long time to be alone.

Bella.